OSABC : And Then There Were None
by LogicalPremise
Summary: A continuation of the Alternative Universe story in "Of Sheep and Battle Chicken" , as Major-Commander Shepard deals with her promotion, a series of threats that could take down the government of the SA, and the ramifications of humanity joining the Council. Includes my versions of Pinnacle Station and Bring Down the Sky. M for language and violence. FShep/Liara. Co-Author Progman.
1. Chapter 1 : Meetings

**Of Sheep and Battle Chicken : And Then There Were None **

_(AKA The Sexual Adventures of Shepard Featuring Naked Thane)  
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_Not. _

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><p><strong>AN and Intro:**

_Welcome to OSABC: And Then There Were None. ATTWN is a continuation of my AU rewrite of Mass Effect 1, titled "Of Sheep and Battle Chicken". This story covers the period of time from the end of ME1 to the beginning of the two years before ME2. It's a story about the trials and tribulations of one Sara Ying Shepard, a story about maturation, about overcoming pain in one's past, about having a kinky ancient asari for a father-in-law, and about god-stomping the shit out of Batarians._

_In case the story summary eluded you, this is FShep/Liara. Other pairings include Joker/Tali, Garrus/OC, Ash/Kai (but Kaiden is teh ded), and Chakwas/OC (eventually). Things you will not see include a stupid Council, moronically evil Cerberus, weak-ass turians, or pretty much anything that Bioware half-assed. The story runs on the Rule of Crazy Awesome, so in game terms the setting is a mix between Insanity and Easy. _

__It's also a story about the difference between being a martyr and being a hero.__

_As an aside: This is rated M for strong language and heavily violence. While there are a number of sexual innuendos, there are no explicit sex scenes in this work. Given my version of Shepard's proclivities, that's probably for the best. _

_This is an AU (Alternative Universe) fic. I have taken a shotgun to canon in every possible way, and if you think I changed things up in the first story, you are in for a **treat**. That means you will be completely lost if you haven't read the first story – and if you click my profile, you can see other supporting documentation that fleshes out the backstory of the universe, such as the **Cerberus Files, the Systems Alliance Order of Battle, and the Encyclopedia Biotica**.  
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_None of these are required reading, but if you ever wonder why salarians operate in bullet-time, asari have biotic lightsabers, and the entire universe is a vile, conspiracy ridden shithole that makes 40k look like My Little Pony...you may wish to check them out._

_This linking piece is something I've always wished Bioware would do. I never liked the fact that barely a few weeks past defeating Saren, Shepard got killed. No promotions, no new ships, nothing but "go hunt Geth". No military force is that stupid. At the very least they would have given her some awards – something. Instead we got no real 'closure' at the start of ME2. Do not even get me started on the stupidity of Shepard falling through the atmosphere and doing anything but burning up entirely and splattering on an icy rock. I fixed that too._

_The story is told in five arcs. The first arc covers the aftermath of Shepard's promotion to Major of Marines and her training under Admiral Ahern at Pinnacle Station. The second arc is my version of Bring Down the Sky. After that... we'll see. :D_

_Hopefully I can get this completed in short order. (Progman, stop laughing at me)  
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_Before we start this trip, I want to bring up a story. A story that has not gotten anywhere near the proper number of reviews. A story that is so goddamned brilliant I feel like a hack compared the writer. That story is **"Living an Indoctrinated Dream" by Aberron.** If you like my writing, check his out._

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><p><strong>THE FIRST ARC : THE PINNACLE OF SUCCESS<strong>

"_Never forget the best weapon any soldier has is their mind, and the worst weakness is their emotions." – Major Kyle, 'Reflections of the Lion'_

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><p>The endless black curtain of space shattered in a blaze of light as the long, low shape of the Alliance cruiser Accra erupted from FTL, lightning flickering briefly over the pale white surfaces of the ship. Ahead of her, backlit by the awesome swirls and storms of the gas giant it orbited, the bulk of Arcturus Station loomed. A thousand ships moved in complicated patterns from the edge of the station, some flickering into FTL with a displacement of space, others flaring thrusters to dive down towards the inner solar system.<p>

The Accra smoothly accelerated, bursts of energy flaring as it lowered it's kinetic barriers on approach. Aboard the vessel, a calm voice rang out over the 1MC announcement system, almost droning in it's pitch.

"Attention. All hands prepare for docking. Engineering, draw core output down to nominal levels. Tech-team Three, report to docking connector bay two for hardlock systems checks."

Major-Commander Sara Shepard sighed as shudders ran through the frame of the small cabin she was assigned. Her dark black hair fell in limp curtains around the dark features of her face, cold blue eyes boredly scanning over the datapad in her hands, lips drawn down into a scowl. The cabin she was in was spartan and mostly bare, boasting a narrow bed, a set of lockers, and the small desk and chair unit she was sitting at. Like most Systems Alliance warships, living space was at a premium, and even with her new rank and importance, she didn't rate much more than bumping the XO from his room.

Still, it was better than making the trip stuck in a hibernation coffin. The people she had brought with her – Liara, Tali, Pressly and Joker – were given smaller cabins, somewhere on the second deck of the ship carrying her to her new command. Only by dint of a long and tedious amount of haggling with the SA Bureau of Assignment had she been able retain command of any of her marines from the Normandy. Senior Chief Emilo Vega and two Drop-Assault Combat Troopers, Sergeants Jack Florez and Uriel Montoya were the only ones she could hang on to, since Ownby and Haskins would require months of rehabilitation, and Chief Haln had been given a honorable medical discharge due to his injuries.

Ashley Williams, of course, both pregnant and still wounded, couldn't make the trip, and it was likely she would be reassigned elsewhere anyway. Her old engineer Adams had been given a promotion and a job aboard a dreadnaught, and a berth near his wife, so he was happier where he was. The rest of her old crew was still on the Normandy, locked in repair cycles to fix the battering the frigate had taken in the act of chasing down Benezia.

The rest of the crew she would need for her new command would be assigned at Arcturus Station...where they were now docked. With a sigh, Shepard tucked the padd into her shipbag, sliding it along side her journal and a light pistol. Pausing to make sure she'd left nothing behind in the cabin, she picked up her duty duffel and exited the cabin once the final lurching motion and heavy clangs reverberating through the ship let her know docking was completed.

The corridor outside was standard Alliance. Heavy white bulkheads, steel decking, a foam-sprayed overhead festooned with cabling and TDL piping. Arcane letters were embossed on the walls to identify electrical access hatches and damage control equipment, and blocky lockers jutted out at just the right angle to painfully crack against an elbow if one wasn't careful.

Still unfamiliar with the layout of the Accra – she'd only been aboard two days, and much of that time was spent with Pressly going over command requirements – she managed to find her way to the main assembly deck. The deck ran half the length of the ship, a combination of assembly hall, galley, and lounge for the ship's crew. Equipment lockers hung from the junctions of bulkheads and overheads, while rows of tables dominated the center of the room, arranged around a haptic display screen showing recent news and entertainment.

Shepard glanced around, not seeing any of her crew, but before she could look her name was called from behind. She turned to see Captain Charles Swinton descending the stairs leading to the CIC. The commanding officer of the Accra came up to her, his slender figure almost comical against the bulky outlines of his uniform, his hair hacked down to stubble in a spacer's cut.

"Major Shepard. As you can probably tell, we are docked. Already getting priority traffic for you and yours to disembark, ma'am." He handed her a padd, it's surface covered in glaring red graphics indicating high security orders. "My men will offload any luggage you have, and the ships steward is collecting the rest of your command team. It's been a pleasure having you aboard."

She nodded, remembering she should smile at the man. "Thank you, Captain. You run a tight ship. Where should I go to meet up with my crew and board the station?" She glanced over the padd as she spoke, rolling her eyes at the fact that simple orders telling her to meet with her liaison were classified higher than the design specs of the Normandy.

Swinton pointed to the far end of the deck. "Docking bay two, ma'am. They're running across the hard-locks now. Should be someone there from the Admiralty waiting for you with transport."

She nodded, and he saluted, which she returned before walking away. The uniform she wore was no longer the comfortable and shapeless undress of a line officer, but the elaborate leather-paneled uniform of a command officer. The hanging gold chain and higher collar bothered her, and the heavy gold epaulets on each shoulder almost felt as if they were pressing down on her.

Still, she kept her head high and her face blank as she walked the length of the deck. Sailors and marines stared at her in poorly hidden fascination, which was nothing new.

Butcher of Torfan. Savior of the Citadel. Baroness. Twice awarded the Star of Terra. Less a person and more a collection of media perspectives, rumor, and hearsay, she doubted any of them could understand the living hell and journey of pain and growth she'd undergone the past year.

Not that it mattered. She had Liara. She had David. She had Kahlee and Aethyta, Tali and Joker, Garrus and Tel, Pressly and Jiong, and of course General Von Grath. Hell, she even included Udina in her 'list of people that made life worth living'.

_Let them stare._

With a slight grimace she stepped through the heavy bulkhead doorway, a twinge of pain in her thigh reminding her that, even with modern medicine, she'd very nearly died not too long ago fighting Lady Benezia. The thigh wound had healed, but the bone was a touch weak, and that wasn't including all the other assorted injuries she'd collected in the chase and final fight.

Many people thought she was a lethal warrior, but sometimes she felt like she got by with more luck than skill. Some enterprising hacker had managed to get a hold of the surveillance footage in the Council Chamber. While thankfully there was no audio, the video of the fight was impressive enough for most people to be overawed. Yet when she had looked at it, at her own actions in that fight, she only saw her getting her ass beaten like a drum. Fighting a biotic warrior who was killing back when humans were still using swords wasn't easy.

If not for Liara, there were several times that Benezia would have splattered Shepard's brains over the stupidly opulent Council Chambers.

Turning down a narrow, armored corridor, she was lost in her thoughts. The bag over her shoulder made it a bit hard to maneuver as the ship's company began to head to the disembarkation area, and several times she brushed past sailors and techs. She decided to stop woolgathering when she nearly shoulder-checked an inattentive marine into a wall, and apologized with a mutter.

Passing the last of the crowd, she saw an asari in a SA officer uniform, next to a quarian female and a single human male, all gathered in a tight knot near a massive airlock that already stood open.

_Her_ people.

Walking up, she nodded to Liara first, then to the rest of the team. "Everyone have a good trip? And where is Jiong?"

Joker, unsurprisingly, was the first to pipe up. "Haven't seen him. He's probably off terrorizing the ship's XO or something. And no, the trip sucked. Whoever the pilot is needs to trim up his drive alignment, I could feel the ship shaking even from my cabin. And I'll never complain about the coffee on the Normandy again. Ugh."

Tali shrugged, after giving Jeff a look. "I didn't really feel comfortable wandering around. Some of the sailors gave me strange looks." Tali had made slight modifications to her suit since Shepard talked her into joining the SA fleet military – rank stripes carefully painted on her left arm, quarian fashion, and the SA logo and her name were neatly stenciled across her chest. The SA was apparently working on a uniform code for quarians, but it wasn't completed yet, so Tali could pretty much wear what she liked.

Liara, on the other hand, was wearing standard SA undress blues, which Shepard felt looked disturbingly good on her, emphasizing her figure in ways they'd never done for Shepard. "The ship's library was quite extensive. I spent some time looking into your fleet regulations. They are not far different than the security and discipline agreements I had to work under for many archeological digs."

Joker rolled his eyes. "And back to the science again."

Pressly walked up a moment later, his own shipbag slung over one big shoulder. "Your marine team is being offloaded now, ma'am. I've already messaged Arcturus Command of our arrival and our transportation is waiting. Commissar Jiong messaged me a few minutes ago, he will be along presently after he reports to the regional Commissariat command."

Shepard gave him a wide smile. "Pressly, what would I do without you?"

He only shrugged. "Just doing my job, ma'am. I'd rather do my job than have to do yours. Too much shooting for my taste." He turned to glance Joker. "But speaking of taste, and with all due respect...couldn't we have found a less mouthy pilot?"

Joker snickered, and Shepard found her spirits lifting. "Let's get a move on, people."

The trip through Arcturus Station was an eye-opener for Tali and Liara. Few non-humans ever visited the massive station, home not only of the main command of the SA Second Fleet but also where many Senators and other government officials resided. Half the year the SA Senate convened on Arcturus, dealing with laws and issues affecting the SA outside of the Sol System.

The station was gigantic. While no match for the sheer mass of the Citadel, it was still more than two miles long and nearly half that in depth. There were two pieces to the construction – a spherical core, mostly living spaces and business areas, and two long 'wings' that angled away from the core at ninety degree angles, filled with docking areas, warehouses, and industrial parks.

Transport through the station was done with line-cars – maglev vehicles on long powered tracks, each one holding twenty people or tons of cargo. Shepard and her team were on one such vehicle now, the endless ranks of warehouses and storage bays in the port docking flashing by in smears of gray and Alliance white.

The mag-line dipped under a heavy armored bulkhead, angling down and then leveling off to enter the Sphere. It was a huge open space, with much care taken to provide a natural setting near the center. Rows of windows jutted from tall racks of buildings that extended from the curving walls, while smaller buildings were centered around platforms built up towards the middle. The floor of the Sphere was flattened, filled with small buildings, a lake, and groups of imported trees and grass from Earth.

Tali smiled. "It's like a miniature Presidium..."

It was Pressly who spoke next. "Yes. It used to be much different – a lot more utilitarian, all ugly buildings and the like, but after humanity got a chance to see the Citadel, President Jackson spent large amounts of money refurbishing Arcturus. He wanted aliens who saw the Gateway to Sol to be impressed with our race, and … well, I think they got a bit carried away."

Shepard snorted. "A bit?" She pointed at a long series of metallic walls framing various tanks of water, each containing certain kinds of sea-life from Earth. "They built an aquatic zoo!"

Liara nodded. "My people would find that an attractive area. The landscaping is very elegant..."

Shepard only snorted.

O-ATTWN-O

It took a good three hours to get the ball rolling. She had to hustle Liara and Tali over to the main Administrative the two of them for their ranking aptitudes, since neither the asari or the quarian had any SA military background. Then she and Pressly had to hunt down her Marines, and their gear, and get them to a barracks. Finally, she met up with Jiong briefly before sending him and Pressly off to gather up the rest of her command team – whoever they were – and for Pressly to get ops orders and check out the state of the Kazan.

After all of that, she barely had time for a quick meal at a fast food stand before she report to her liaison Following the instructions on the padd she'd been given on the Accra, she arrived at what the sign out front said was Special Operations Command. The office building she entered was pure Alliance in it's architecture – sweeping lines, white armorplast and gray bulkhead plating, plain blue and white carpeting. Inside, a disgustingly handsome ensign with stars in his eyes leapt to attention and said he'd take her to her new office.

She was escorted to an upper floor, passing a series of smoked-glass rooms and strange signs such as 'Exfiltration Debrief – No Admittance' and 'Sanctioned CI', eventually reaching a large office overlooking the central park area of Arcturus through a series of wide windows. The brass nameplate on the door read "Maj Shepard, CO BG Chiron" in deeply embossed lettering, and the room beyond was luxuriously appointed.

A heavy desk of black armorplast dominated the room, it's surface half taken up with haptic screens, a large chair behind it. One wall was covered with a haptic map of Alliance space, the other with empty shelving, a small doorway half open showing a bathroom, and a set of lockers. Thick carpets covered the floor and two crates of something marked 'Admr. Supp. , Misc' took up a corner of the room.

Standing in the room as Shepard entered was a young woman in a sharply-cut suit of pastel blue and white, with an SA pin on her lapel. Her honey-blond hair was almost severely cut, long bangs framing a beautiful but cold face, with the same hard eyes as President Windsor. Her voice was an even , calming contralto, and her posture was almost military in it's bearing.

"Welcome, Major. This will be your office and duty station when not onboard your new ship. I'm Elizabeth Windsor-Turham, your liaison officer and technically your link to Uncle James. Have a seat."

Shepard nodded, shutting the door behind her, and walking over to the desk. She sat down almost experimentally in the heavy leather chair, even as Elizabeth pulled up another comfortable chair and placed herself in front of the desk, her hands holding a thick padd.

Shepard exhaled. "Still getting used to this, ma'am."

Elizabeth inclined her head slightly, an eerie copy of the motion Shepard had seen President Windsor do several times. She seemed naturally elegant and refined, in a way that made Shepard feel a little clumsy and plain, but the crispness of her speech gave her no time to reflect. "That is to be expected. You have been elevated to the heights of human society, in terms both military and socially. But we have little time to allow you to settle into your new post, I fear."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "I was under the impression that I was going to be given training and time to get used to this situation. Is that not the case?"

Elizabeth waggled a hand. "To a degree. However, I'm afraid in the past twelve hours certain political realities have changed the plans my uncle set up, and we will be forced to move more quickly than originally anticipated."

She tapped the padd. "My uncle is under siege, Major. I am not exaggerating in this. He has found evidence, based on several factors, that elements within the structure of the Systems Alliance are moving towards some larger goal, one he worries is not in the best interests of the SA. He has suspected this for some time – hence, his plans to utilize you being expressed as far back as your meeting on Noveria – but information he says you gave him, as well as information from unnamed sources, has him worried. He feels he may be removed from office or even assassinated if he pushes too hard to stop these influences."

Shepard scowled. "He's the President. Can't he just send in the AIS and Commissariat to clean whoever is behind this out?"

She shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. His powers are sharply limited by the Alliance Charter, while his enemies are both a danger to his political goals and the safety of the SA. To recklessly presume the AIS or the Commissariat are not in league with them would be premature at this stage. Additionally, given the delicacy of the issue, Uncle James is reluctant to force things now with an uncooperative, alien-hating government and a fleet that is in tatters."

The young woman exhaled, firming her jaw. "In many respects I wish this was simpler, but there is every possibility my own life is in danger, and so is yours. Thus, we will be forced to move swiftly, but in such a way that hopefully the forces arrayed against my uncle – and you – will think you are no longer a threat to them. With that in mind, I do not expect you to care much or assist with the political side of things, but your assignment to his personal command will require you to understand the larger situation in some detail."

With that, Elizabeth brought up the big display screen on one wall. "Your first task is command training and a shakedown cruise of the SCH Kazan, your new command. We've done what we could to get you the best crew on short notice. They won't quite be the elite crash-team of the Normandy, but each one of the ratings and NCO's will have at least five years experience, and your marine regiment all are experienced A-rates, with some … interesting additions."

The map flared. "The shakedown cruise will be simple, traveling from Arcturus to Watson to finish out the armaments of the ship, and engineering and combat drills on the return trip. You will have an escort of four destroyers, but they are not under your command and are there only in the event someone attacks the Kazan. Your XO, Chief Engineer and Science Officer are being briefed right now on their roles in this evolution, but it should be a fairly simple trip. Questions so far?"

Shepard shook her head. "None, ma'am, except the obvious – I assume the ship has been outfitted with stores, supplies, and the like? What are we picking up at Watson?"

Elizabeth nodded. "The ship is fully loaded, except for torpedoes for the center-line launcher. Techs at Watson have come up with a three-stage torpedo using degenerate matter carefully mined from a neutron star near Perseus. This new torpedo should have nine to ten times the yield of the old M-AM matrix torpedoes. Additionally, you'll be loading the new model M11X Sharktooth missiles, replacing the Spearfish."

She highlighted a section of the map, drawing a line from Watson to Arcturus. "You will perform weapon calibration in deep space on your return trip. Once everything checks out, we'll discuss the second phase of your in-brief before you ship out to Pinnacle Station. The agreement you reached with Admiral Retham throws a wrench into the deployment plans we had in mind … but after some thought, I believe that having older frigates and damaged destroyers gives us an opportunity."

Shepard frowned. "I'm not sure I follow. I agreed to the trade because … well, the Fleet needed them more than I did. But how is that an opportunity?"

The younger woman shrugged slightly, cutting off her padd."My uncle already has assignments planned for you, but it's clear you will require some training before those can be undertaken. That gives us time to refit and repair the vessels in your command … and since they are ineffective as they are, they will be test-beds for experimental new programs and armaments. Rather than repair them to original spec, some will be converted to missile units, or sensor units, or assault craft. This should give you additional flexibility that five Normandy class frigates wouldn't be able to match in terms of specialization."

Elizabeth stood. "You have two hours before the rest of your command team arrives. We've found a competent Navigator, of course, but you will also have to do an in-brief for your new BDO. A cruiser also has several other officers that you will need to brief. Your command team will arrive at 1500 sharp in this office, so I recommend you carefully read over the requirements and the plans of the day for your trip to Watson." She paused, thinking.

"The first phase of the plan is not much changed from our original concept. For the moment, I doubt you will be in any danger. It is the next phase after this where danger will begin, so use this opportunity to improve not only your command ability but your readiness for combat, if you can. I cannot say more at this time – to be honest, Uncle James is also keeping me in the dark to some degree – but I will be in touch upon your return, Major."

With that, she left the office, shutting the door behind her. Shepard looked across the office that was now hers before sighing. "Fuck." Deciding she'd review the stuff waiting for her in a minute, she fished a cigarette out of her uniform and searched for a place to smoke.

O-ATTWN-O

Meeting her command team was an interesting experience.

At 1500, Liara, Pressly and Tali entered, followed by Joker. A moment later six other humans entered, followed by the limping form of Commissar Alfred Jiong, wearing his usual black coat, red sash, and peaked cap, but using a cane.

Shepard had used the time to read up on the roles and responsibilities of each officer, and had their dossiers uploaded to her desk comp, but had never been in complete command of a battle group before. Reviewing their information had reassured her that, at least on paper, every one of them was solid, although the comm tech was very light on practical experience and the supply officer had no space-side chops. Still, they would do their duty, and with Liara and the gang to back her up, she was more worried about how they would interact than how well they did their jobs.

She was also able to pull up some information on the existing crews of the rest of her fleet, but skimmed over it and then dismissed it. Given that her ships were going to be put through dry-dock and rebuild, she doubted their existing crews and captains would stay in place. Still, two of them were coming to this meeting as well, the two most likely to hang around, so it would be a good time to get a feel for them too.

She'd gotten the ensign downstairs to bring more chairs into her office, and gestured everyone to sit. "Alright, people, let's get started. I've never done this before, so if I'm a bit informal, well, get used to it."

"I'm already familiar with the officers I brought with me, but for the sake of everyone getting to know each other, we're all going to introduce ourselves. I'm Major-Commander Sara Shepard, CO of the Kazan and Battle Group Chiron. I'm an N7 biotic specialist in the Vanguard program, formerly C7 and A6 rate marine, and I've passed level IV and level V command, ops, and engineering classes. My previous command was the Normandy, a stealth scout frigate. My specialization in naval terms would be weapons systems, but I'm qualified if not experienced in piloting and CIC ops. My personal pet peeve is people who don't tell me everything I need to know up front."

She turned to Pressly. "Commander Pressly."

Pressly straightened his uniform. "Commander Charles Pressly, O6 CIC, P5 Weapons, rated Navigator, level nine. Seventeen years service, four as an A-Rate marine, P4. I've passed level V command, engineering, ops, and service classes and am a Q3 rated naval pilot. Previous commands were the New Orleans as Navigator, the Normandy as Navigator and then executive officer. Specialization is in CIC battle ops and ECM deployment. I strive for excellence in all things and expect everyone under Major Shepard's command to do the same."

She nodded. "Commissar Jiong is my political officer. Alfred?"

Jiong took off his hat. "Commissar-Captain Alfred Jiong, Systems Alliance Commissariat. I'm afraid very few of my skills translate cleanly into the MCV rating, but I'm roughly on par with an N-series marine in terms of combat ability, and my shipboard specialization is encryption systems and basic ops and ECM handling. I do have some skill in both engineering and weapons, but not to the level that I would stand a watch comfortably. I have extensive xenology training and speak asari and two salarian cants, along with some turian. As with all senior commissars and like the Major here, I am a qualified biotic, and I assisted Major Shepard during the last stages of her mission against Lady Benezia."

He paused. "You will note there are non-human crew members here, namely Lady Liara and Ms. Zorah. If I have a pet peeve, it would be if citizens of the SA – which both ladies are – are subjected to bigotry or racist remarks. If anyone has a problem serving alongside people who risked their lives to protect us all, then you will wish to find another berth, for I have no tolerance for such. Other than that, I consider my primary focus to assist Major Shepard, not to police the crew."

She smiled. "Thank you. What he said goes double for me. Liara and Tali aren't just crew, they are my very close friends. If it's a problem working with them, let me know now, not later."

No one spoke up, and she smiled. "Good! I don't have to throw anyone out the window. Let's proceed."

Shepard glanced at Joker. "Ah, right. Lieutenant Commander Jeff Moreau. Callsign Joker. Q7 rated naval pilot class fifteen. No, I didn't misspeak. R6 rating small craft. Nine years of service. Lead pilot on the San Angeles and secondary pilot on the Calais, and primary pilot on the Normandy. Specialization is flying my ass off. I really hate it when people assume since I have medical issues with my bones that I'm helpless. Seriously, don't do that."

Shepard sighs. "You'll get used to Joker. Unfortunately." She glanced at Liara.

"Y-yes. Lieutenant Liara T'Soni. I believe I will be … promoted … to Lieutenant Commander once we are formally assigned to the Kazan, where I will be the Science and Intelligence Officer. I have been given a rating of K7 xenology, asari as well as a provisional Y3 R&D Rating, subtype space. I posses a doctorate in xenoarcheology and Prothean studies from the University of Serrice, and was a practicing archeologist prior to all of … the past year. According to the gentleman I spoke with at the administrative building, I also have the equivalent of a C7 biotic rating. My specializations include Prothean history and technology, archeology, geology, planetary physics, and xenological survival. I am afraid I have no prior service with the Systems Alliance...but I spent five years training with asari commandos under the instruction of a war priestess, and was a part of Shepard's team that stopped Saren and … Lady Benezia." She paused. "I am too new to all of this to .. have pet peeves?"

Shepard smiled, and glanced at Tali'Zorah. "I am Tali'Zorah nar Kazan, daughter of Admiral Rael'Zorah vas Alarei. I am a Lieutenant , provisionally a Lieutenant Commander, and Chief Engineer of the Kazan. I have passed an examination of level V Engineering technology given to me by a rated Chief Engineer, and taken the tests to posses a M6 engineering rating and a E4 damage control rating. I have three years experience working with engineering systems, including a year spent on the Normandy, and I spent two years training with the Migrant Fleet Marines. I was also part of Shepard's team. I specialize in ship systems and omni-repair systems. My only problems are with people who forget my name and call me 'quarian'."

Shepard smirked, and pointed to the first man she didn't know well. He was tall and barrel chested, with heavy muscles. His face was slightly familiar to Liara and Tali, but they didn't know why until he spoke. His features were dark and even, his brown eyes almost amused and his chin covered with a thin non-regulation goatee.

"I'm Lieutenant Tyrone Cole … the son of Master Chief Gregory Cole." He saw the flicker of grief on the faces of Shepard and Liara but continued. "I just completed Officer Training School, but I spent seven years as a B-rate on Horizon, and three as an A-Rate marine in the Sixth RRU. I have a J3 first aid responder qualification, level II security systems training, and I'm a R2 small craft pilot. I also have my authorization for N1 training to begin whenever I get time in my duty schedule. My specialization is direct assault and I'll be the ships Battle Duty Officer, ma'am." He folded his arms. "My only pet peeve is that I don't like marines who don't push themselves."

Shepard nodded. "Lieutenant … your father was a key part of my team. We miss him greatly, and I'm glad you decided to take this position...even knowing he fell under my command."

Lieutenant Cole snorted, in a way that sounded almost identical to his father. "Ma'am, with all due respect, that's the reason I am here. My father was … very, very proud to serve under you, on the Normandy, fighting to protect us all. He never wanted to die in any other fashion than he did – talking shit, standing on his feet, and making sure the job got done. And from what little they tell me about Eden Prime, if not for you he would have died there." He smiled. "I'll try to live up to the standards he set, but I'm afraid I can't fire a Revenant LMG one handed or choke out a geth."

At that, Shepard had a memory of Cole doing just that and laughed. "Well said, Lieutenant. Welcome aboard." She turned to the woman sitting next to him.

The woman was slightly built, with darkly tanned skin, dark wavy hair and serious if slightly nervous blue eyes. Her voice had a rich English accent with a hint of a stammer. "Ensign Samantha Traynor, ma'am. O3 Communications specialist, Comms Officer for the Kazan. Graduated Oxford University summa cum laude, two year OCS scholarship through the SA. Five months active service. Qualified as a level nine communications tech, and I speak asari, both dialects of turian, fleet-service quarian, and nineteen salarian cants. I'm trained in multispectrum data communications routing and second level intelligence support services, so I will be reporting to Lieutenant Commander T'Soni. I .. uh, don't have a lot of practical experience, ma'am – this will be my first ship posting. B-but I was the first of my class in all aspects of my job. Ma'am." She looked a mix of defensive and defiant, and Shepard smiled.

"We all start somewhere, Ensign. I'm not exactly sure what the hell multispectrum data communications routing even is, but that's why you have the job. If you're here, you are one of the best the SA has to offer. Welcome aboard."

"Thank you, ma'am. I won't let you down, ma'am."

Shepard turned to the man next in the line, who gave a nod. He was lanky and rather thin, with fading blond hair cut short, calm gray eyes, a narrow beak of a nose and bloodless lips. His voice was very deep, but he spoke rapidly and with a heavy Arcturus accent. "Lieutenant Commander Jerred Colms, ma'am. I'll be your weapons officer. Eight years experience on the Orizaba, the Orleans and two years with BuWeapons. P6 weapons tech, O3 targeting systems and CIC integration. Level V ops and weapons certifications. I helped design the new Kyle-class torpedoes we'll be taking onboard at Watson, and I have a doctorate in particle physics. Graduated from ArcTech, so this is my home. Had to beat out ninety-six applicants for the position. I'll also assist in maintaining the armory. Pet peeve is people who don't' take care of their weapons... doubt that will be a problem with you, ma'am, or Lieutenant Cole."

Shepard nodded. "Are you familiar with the rest of the Kazan's weapons systems, then?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am. The core of the ship is built around a mass-effect accelerated torpedo launcher. The acceleration solves the old problem of torpedoes taking so long to get on target – this launches them at a good fraction of light-speed, before enemy ECM can even respond. Main guns are three 27mm MA cannons and a 17 mm inline mass accelerator rated at 1.8 MeV with a slug mass of 11.2 pounds. Four 9mm MA turrets, port and starboard, with 280 degrees of rotation. Three banks of stage IV GARDIAN lasers, using chemically accelerated red-orange frequencies. And two banks of missile tubes, four per bank, with a ripple fire rate of six missile per second for nine seconds. Total torpedo capacity is forty, missile racks hold eight hundred missiles."

Shepard whistled. "Alright, you know your stuff backwards and forwards. Welcome aboard." She glanced at the man next to Colms, who coughed.

The man was a touch out of shape, but his jaw was firm even if it had a slight bit of stubble near the left ear. He was shaved bald with an SA tattoo barely visible on his neck and a scar bisected his cheek, trailing over his right eye. His eyes were black, or very dark brown, and his uniform was a bit rumpled. "Lieutenant Dallas, ma'am, Anthony Dallas, Ship's Supply and Logistics Officer, L6. Five years in service, but it's all been planetside, mostly running supply and logistics chains for Fifth Fleet's groundside units. However, I did serve nine months as a ops ensign in the _Solguard._ I'll keep us up and running, your marines in good armor and your ship in coffee that doesn't taste like garbage. I fear I'm a bit out of practice in the physical department, but I can work out now that I'm not buried in paperwork sixty hours a week."

Shepard nodded. No matter if the guy seemed a bit flaky, anyone good enough to serve in the _Solguard _was bound to be excellent at what they did. Service in that task force was very nearly a holy thing for SA personnel, only the very best could even hope to serve. "I'm afraid I have rather unconventional ideas about how my marines should be equipped, Lieutenant."

He grinned. "So I've heard. BuSups was pissed at you for your stunt in buying armor for your Marines, but I thought it was a great idea. Given how famous you are now, you could probably talk some big shot armor designer into equipping your whole force at reduced cost."

She grinned. "Not a bad idea. We'll come back to that." She turned to the last two figures, sitting a bit apart. "Neither of you are on my crew, but introduce yourselves nonetheless, please."

The older man spoke first. His hair was neatly cut but going a bit gray at the temples, and his features were lined, giving his dark gray eyes a sense of heavy weight. "Captain Michael von Khar, squire of the DMKoA , Marquis of Charleston Beach. I'm the senior destroyer commander of Battle Group Chiron and your squadron XO. Twenty one years of service. I haven't gotten my admiral-designate qualification yet, and I doubt I will given my age, but I'm happy to be of service. My ship is the SDD Mindoir, third gen destroyer hull. I was assigned to the 69 Scout, but I'm happy to be with your group after that ugly fight at Terra Nova. Thank you for picking us up, the Fleet was planning to give us four days repair and send us up against the geth."

Shepard shook her head slowly. "My very first rule is that no one under my command gets fucked by the SA penny-pinching bean counters any more. I've lost too many good soldiers to that shit. Your ship – all the ships under my command, actually – will not leave dock until I am personally satisfied they are ship-shape and each CO is confident at taking them out into a fight."

Captain von Khar nodded. "That's a relief, ma'am. Our duty in the squadron – the destroyers, that is – will probably be as flankers and pressure units, backing up the big guns on your monster of a cruiser. We'll have to sit down and go over tactics once we know what our mission tasking will be."

Shepard nodded, glancing at the other figure. A slender woman with straight blond hair and narrow, almost slanted green eyes, her uniform was immaculate and her posture rigid. "Yes, ma'am. Commander Rachel Gatlin. I'm the senior commander of the frigate group assigned to you. I've been in service for eleven years and this is my first command. My ship is the heavy missile frigate SM Thermopylae. Right now we're also in need of drydock, we're a second-gen class and I'm afraid both our electronics and cooling systems are very much out of date. My crew is mostly newer enlistees, with a handful of officers pulled from ships destroyed in the Battle of the Citadel, so we have a lot of training to do. I'm also pulling double duty as the squadron liaison officer to BuPers, so I'll be vetting applicants to join the crews of the destroyers and frigates in the battle group. I'm very excited to work with you, ma'am. My family was on Dirth when you saved us all."

Shepard smiled. "Your people saved themselves, Commander. I just helped." She exhaled, and pulled up a screen on her desk. "Now that we all know each other...it's time to go over our tasks. Thanks to the fact that our fleet got the shit smacked out of it at the Citadel and Terra Nova, we get to be the tip of the spear for a series of tasks coming straight from President Windsor. But before we can do that, we have to get our shit together."

She brought up a map on the wall, and smiled. "Let's begin."

O-ATTWN-O

The briefing took a good two hours, during which time Shepard began to learn about her new team members.

Cole, like his father, was silent for most of it, only speaking up about what touched on the marine contingent. That hadn't even been put together yet – Cole's impression was that they would be assembled at Pinnacle Station.

Jerred Colms was brilliant and memorized facts instantly, but a touch reactive to perceived criticism. He had lots of ideas, and enough practical experience that he could point out improvements in the planned schedules of tests, but little tolerance for the questions Tali had about how the weapons systems would affect the experimental new mass core of the Kazan.

Liara and Traynor got along wonderfully, but Traynor was both a touch nervous and a bit star-struck. Shepard resolved to work that out of the girl ASAP.

Anthony Dallas, despite his lack of experience on shipboard ops, was the most useful when it came to planning how to load the weapons and make sure the Kazan was supplied properly. He had connections everywhere, and if he was a bit prone to taking shortcuts, she couldn't fault his enthusiasm.

Tali had a long list of things she wanted to check on the Kazan and was clearly impatient to get started, while Joker's only contribution – as usual – was a series of wisecracks and jokes that kept the meeting from getting too boring.

Jiong merely observed, except for a few minor questions regarding ship security.

When it was all said and done, Shepard smiled. "Good work, people. Captain von Khar, Commander Gatlin. Have your ships ready to depart for Pinnacle Station when we get back from our shakedown cruise. We'll tow the Silverfish, since her core is still out. Joker should enjoy that."

Ignoring his rolled eyes, she continued. "The Kazan should be ready for initial inspection tomorrow morning, if this report I have is accurate and not a pile of BuShips BS, which I highly doubt. Assuming it is correct, Pressly, have the crew squared away and ready for departure by 1500. My understanding is that the crew aboard is mostly a skeleton commissioning crew stiffened by officers and enlisted from other ships lost or crippled at the Citadel, so it's up to you to whip them into the kind of team we had on the Normandy. Tali, Liara, Jerred, Anthony – review the officers answering to you and your senior NCO's and flag anyone who can't or won't do the job properly. If anyone has a problem with the way you run things they can get the fuck off my ship."

She turned to Jiong. "I assume we have barracks or staterooms or fucking something assigned to stay in?"

Jiong smiled. "Already handled. Given the situation, I've arranged hotel rooms at the Arcturus Arms until I can work out more permanent arrangements, but I should have everything wrapped up shortly."

She chuckled. "I knew you would be handy. Make sure Tali has anything required for her special needs ready to go by the time we get back."

Tali tilted her head, and Jiong smiled. "I am looking into the possibility of obtaining a certified medic with experience with quarians as well as a clean room, Ms. Zorah. I'll keep you appraised of what I find out."

Tali stammered out her thanks, but Shepard waved it off. "Alright, it's getting late and I'm hungry and tired of being in this damned uniform. Dismissed. Liara, hang around a bit." She smiled as the group filed out, Jiong being the last to go.

The door closed behind him, and Shepard laid her head on the desk. "This is … a big job."

Liara smiled. "It is no less stressful for me, Sara. I fear I will have to do a great deal of work on areas of science I have not paid much attention to. The science suite aboard the Kazan sounds very well equipped, but I do wonder if there will be any resentment from those answering to me about my position, given my lack of – "

Shepard looked up and shook her head. "There better not be, or I'll see if I can keelhaul someone in space. Do not take any shit from the staff working for you, Liara. Hopefully everyone will have enough brains not to fuck with someone who biotically piledrives geth collosi, but if anyone causes trouble, let me know."

Liara gave a wider smile. "I am withdrawn, Sara. That does not mean I am … meek. Perhaps a little of you has rubbed off on me, after all."

Shepard nodded, then grinned. "More than a little, if what we did at the hotel a few days ago is any measure. I could barely fucking walk the next day, Liara."

Liara blushed, but also smirked. "If I had known you would pass out halfway through, Sara, I would have gone slower."

Shepard shivered, then shook her head. "Let's find someplace to eat and relax, evil woman."


	2. Chapter 2 : Motivations

**A/N**: _The focus of this story will mostly be on Shepard and her team, but it will cut away at times to other viewpoints. It won't be the constant shifting perspective of OSABC's final chapters, but some understanding of why things proceed along the lines they do is needed so that people aren't left going "WTF"._

_Most of this chapter focuses on the new OC's – Tyrone Cole, Jarred Colms, and Anthony Dallas. Each one is a unique take on a character Bioware fucked up. I'll leave it up to you to match the OC to the Canon Character. One is obvious, one is subtle, and one is a rather warped interpretation._

_As I've warned before, the earlier chapters are more fluff and exposition than action, but that changes in later Arcs, have no fear._

_Update: 9-25 : Fixed a few typos, although Shepard does have beautiful hips. _

* * *

><p>"<em>There are two sides to everything … unless the very concept of sides is merely our perception,not reality" <em>

_– Lady Benezia T'Soni – 'No single raindrop blames itself for the Flood'_

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><p>The SCH Kazan was a beautiful ship.<p>

Shepard felt a sense of satisfaction just looking at the lines of the heavy cruiser. Like most Alliance cruisers, the ship was three blocky wedges arranged in a triangular shape around a center-line hull, four engines melding smoothly with the hull near the back. Unlike most cruisers, however, these engines – gigantic Briggs/Royce Combine hyper-mix thrusters five times larger than the Normandy's engines – were mounted on pivots, allowing vectored thrust and improved ship handling.

The hull was gleaming white, trimmed in Alliance blue and highlights of black. Two bold red stripes ran under the name, surmounted by a gold star, signifying the ship's CO had been twice awarded the Star of Terra. The heavily reinforced bridge sat atop the cruiser's spine, protected by curved sheets of duraplate a good foot thick.

A dizzying array of cables, pipes and hoses ran to and from the ship along the service gantry, a mix of VI-controlled repair bots and dockworkers in off-white one piece worksuits scrambling along the hull. The Kazan was still in drydock, a pressurized work area with atmosphere, but even now the last of the ship-systems were being brought online and a set of mass effect cranes was connecting to the hull, preparing the shift the ship to a deep space berth.

Once she'd only dreamed of space, playing with a battered old model of an Alliance frigate or wondering what it was like to walk among the very stars. Now she was in command of this beautiful ship, and the lives on it were hers to guide and keep safe.

_I will not fail. _

Shepard, after gazing at the ship a bit longer, turned to Pressly standing next to her. "Status?"

The balding XO folded his arms, arching an eyebrow. "Fairly good. Not quite as squared away as the launch of the Normandy, but we're on schedule, at least. Met with the Navigator and Lead CIC Coordinator yesterday, they both seem solid. Tali is already onboard terrorizing the engineering staff, but from her initial report BuShips actually didn't screw anything up with this one. The Tantalus-II core is operating at 6% draw, but she tested it up to 120% with no out-of-band misfires and only one mass disruption, well within safety limits."

Shepard nodded absently. "Of course, we won't know for sure until it has to trigger a relay, will we?" She sighed. "What about the crew?"

Pressly gestured to an open assembly area visible through large windows in the distance, along the far wall of drydock. "NCO's and junior officers are getting them together now. Complement is mostly complete." He pulled out a padd.

"Twenty-eight officers, including you. Two warrant officers – one is down in primary engineering, the other is in weapons. Ninety-six non-commissioned officers, three hundred eleven crew, six fighter pilots, three fighter support officers, thirty nine fighter support and repair staff. The ship's marine company is one company. Ninety soldiers, six officers. First detachment is A-rate marines. Standard formations. Second detachment is a mix of N-level soldiers, DACT, and some info-war scout-snipers. Third detachment is a mix of A-rates and heavy weapons, and fourth is actually a lance of battlesuits – six older Agamemnon suits, and the lance officer is in a Thermopylae suit. All in all, very solid layout."

Shepard tilted her head. "Impressive. Armor assets are always a plus...speaking of which, do we have vehicles?"

Pressly nodded, checking the padd in his hands. "Two MAKO tanks. DACTs will hot drop, the spec-forces have inline drop-pods, but they can fit into the MAKOs if we need conventional drops. The ship is too big to land on a surface but we also have a combat-rated pinnace alongside the fighters."

Shepard smiled widely. The President definitely hadn't skimped on outfitting her with every possible advantage. "Sounds like things are going well. Is everyone accounted for and ready to roll?"

Pressly sighed. "No. We're missing our ship's doctor and the medical staff. Also, Jiong was supposed to have three or four Commissariat types on board, he says they've been delayed. We have enough rated medics on board that I don't think it will be a problem to do the shakedown without them, but we obviously won't be able to test the medical area and trauma center."

She nodded. "Have Dallas inventory the medbay and make sure we have full loads on required medical supplies, and make double goddamned sure we loaded asari and quarian blood plasma and dextro-compatable medicines. I'm _still _pissed General Von Grath stole Chakwas away from me..."

Pressly did not snicker, but made a curious noise in the back of his throat and struggled to conceal a smile. "Yes, ma'am."

Shepard shot him a deadpan look. "Traitor. Anyway, have the crew group up by division, I'm supposed to trot out some kind of speech, I suppose. We get any word yet from the Chief when his people will get the fuck off my ship and we can space this bitch?"

Pressly consulted the padd again. "Another hour. Ship should be clear by 1100. Arcturus has cleared us for departure at 1500, and the destroyer squadron is already in system and waiting. I went ahead and sent the mess deck cooks and deck division on board to prep the ship and make sure lunch is ready to go once the ship's clear."

Shepard nodded. "Alright then. I'll head over to the staging area and .. say something .. speechy. You take care of the rest of it."

Pressly nodded. "No problem, ma'am."

Shepard watched him walk towards the ship, before looking around and finding the nearest mag-lev car, which she hopped aboard. "VI, staging area nine."

The vehicle accelerated smoothly, and Shepard tapped her omni, sending a message to Liara. A few moments later she got her response.

_In staging area nine, Sara. Waiting for you to arrive. Crew is calm. Tali not here. -_

Shepard nodded to herself, and tapped her commlink on the omnitool. "Tali, status."

The quarian's voice sounded aggravated. "The bosh'tets who did a systems check on this ship before testing the engines should be shot, Shepard. None of the fuel lines were pressure tested, and all of them had material leaks. I've already replaced the connectors and retested, but now I'm worried about whatever else we might find."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Run a system check of the entire fuel system, then, and have your team double check the life-support, HVAC, and cooling. If none of those are jacked up, we can at least get into space without suffocating or dying of heatstroke, or having the ship explode. Once you have those five by five, run a level five check-series on the flight control surfaces and the trunk electrical systems. The rest we can find during the shakedown, that's what it's for anyway."

Tali huffed. "Quarians wouldn't launch ships that weren't 100%."

Shepard grinned. "No, they probably wouldn't. But we humans are dumb. And honestly? I expected problems. As long as they don't affect ship safety, I'm inclined to let them go until we can get a hold of the designers to fix the issues, and not merely have us patch or bypass them. I'm not ignoring the problems, and trust me, I will put my foot up someone's ass for this, but … let's just say we're on a tight schedule. I trust you to handle anything that comes up engineering-wise."

Tali's voice had a slight warble of gratitude. "Thanks, Shepard. This will take another hour or so to sort out, did you need me and the first engineering shift dockside?"

Shepard checked the chrono on her omnitool and spoke. "Nah. You've heard my speeches before anyway. Just make sure if anyone gives you shit you let me know."

Tali didn't say anything for a long moment. "Everyone has been … very respectful. A lot of them ask me things to see how much I actually know, but no one has been rude and they all address me as Lieutenant Commander Zorah. I guess I got used to the informality on the Normandy...should I be calling you Major all the time?"

Shepard snorted. "Hell no. I dragged you with me because Adams and everyone else says you're the best engineer they've seen, and because I know you won't half-ass things. There's a time for unit discipline and proper modes of address, and that's when the brass is hanging around. The rest of the time you can call me Sara for all I care."

The quarian's voice was warm. "Thanks...Sara. I've got to get back to work, but … could we talk a bit once we get going? A-about... Jeff?"

Shepard arched an eyebrow, wondering what that could be about. "Sure, but I'll warn you that I'm not as good at counseling as Wrex was."

Tali laughed as Shepard disconnected, and squared her shoulders. "Time to meet the troops."

O-ATTWN-O

Jerred Colms stood at perfect physical attention as Shepard began speaking to the assembled crew of the Kazan, but he didn't pay much mental attention to her words. He'd seen commissioning speeches before, and if Shepard was a bit more direct and less flowery than other CO's he'd served under, it still wouldn't change the undertones of her speech – work hard, team spirit, rah rah rah. Go Blue.

For a man with a genius level IQ, photographic memory, and twenty-six patents under his belt, Jerred was often underwhelmed by his co-workers, and found very few people to be his actual intellectual peer. It was isolating, in it's own fashion, but it was isolation he selected. He had interacted with people of his own mental level before and come away fascinated by their own flaws and weaknesses, so he knew – intellectually – that he had his own.

He just couldn't see them. Given his past, it wasn't surprising, he supposed. The fact that he was the best weapons engineer in Second Fleet, perhaps in the entire SA, wasn't a matter of pride so much as a forgone conclusion in his mind. He'd been the best all his life. He'd had to be, to pursue his dream.

Top of his classes in college, wooed by every major university on Arcturus and even some from Earth itself. Full scholarships merely on the strength of his test scores. Graduated college at 19, had his doctorate at 22, founded a company at 23 and sold it for twenty million at 25. He'd signed up with the military both to challenge himself and to put him in a place to further his dream, rather than out of any patriotic duty, and he'd torn through the ranks at a meteoric pace. He'd never married but dallied with the daughters of famous business moguls and senators, and made connections that would aid him in breaking the last boundaries of the military.

He was well on target to hit commander and qualify for his own ship after this tour, and after that the Admiralty beckoned. He had no doubt in his ability to achieve it, his natural talent and aggressive pursuit of his chosen vocation had impressed those near the top of the Alliance military for years. But he didn't push himself out of any ambition for power or glory, or even money.

His only true ambition – one that had driven him nearly his entire life – was developing the next generation of weapons, ones so _terrible_, so _powerful_, that his name would be immortalized. Ones that would ensure humanity wouldn't be the damned underdog.

Ones would ensure no other people went through what he did.

He could never forget the fire pouring out of the sky when he was seven years old, trapped on Watson with his parents during the pirate attack, watching so many Alliance marines and civilians die even as their weapons did little against the incoming horde. Never forgot those needle-teeth batarians laughing as they shot anything in their path.

Watching his parents come apart in front of his very eyes, splashing him with their lifeblood as they'd hidden him away from the pirates at the cost of their lives.

The SA had built up Watson since then, with missile bases and defenses and fleets, but that day he'd decided he wouldn't have to ever go through that feeling again. It became his passion, and drove him towards his current path. Everyone had a passion, and his was in the understanding of the fundamental forces of physics and energy that made space combat possible.

He couldn't bring back his parents. He couldn't undo the privation he'd had to endure, being orphaned, dropped on Arcturus by some oversight in the refugee care system. But he could apply his brilliance to the root cause of the issue, and derive satisfaction and fulfillment from knowing that one day, when pirates attacked, or war broke out, or the geth came again, that they would taste and know defeat, written in the particle beams and accelerated mass packets that were his design

Then his parents could rest. Only then would he feel comfortable pursuing his businesses again, or trying to build a family.

Passions were what drove people. And with that understanding in his mind, he knew that Shepard – driven by her own passions – would be a key part of his own goals. She had a skill that he didn't, one that he needed. That alone would have sparked his interest, but she offered more. She had connections, she had power, she had the eye of the galaxy on her. If he could sway her thinking towards his, then his goals would be brought about that much faster.

But what to think of her? He watched her move across the stage. A beautiful woman, but supposedly ice cold and lethal. Rumors, stories, and presumptions surrounded her, obscuring whatever the truth was of his new CO.

He didn't care much about Shepard's background, her reportedly icy personality, her vicious combat style or even the gauche rumors swirling about her command ability. So she had gotten a bunch of no-account jarheads killed on some icy rock? Marines were a dime a dozen, siphoned off from the poor from the arcologies and the restless from the colonies. If getting the job required their sacrifice, wasn't that what the SA Marine Code stood for?

Nor did he care much for the fact she had stopped a major galactic threat. That's what heroes and Spectres and those kind of people did, after all. If not Shepard, then Branson, or some other gun-toting ape with more muscles than brains. He was thankful in a disassociated way, of course, and it was useful in that it gave her greater influence, but it wasn't what drew his attention.

Her social rank was irrelevant, given that it was just handed to her. She could use that in time, but not now, and given the political issues on Earth right now, not in the near future. She was astonishingly good looking, but he was always honest with himself about attractions and sex, and she just wasn't his type, to be honest. Besides, there was a sense of awkwardness and playfulness in her interactions with the asari woman that hinted she was already involved.

None of that mattered anyway. He'd pushed and angled for this job not because Shepard was a fearsome warrior, or connected politically, or had saved the galaxy, or even due to her beauty. He'd taken it because he'd been one of the few people to see the blueprints of the Oracal Demolitions InciNdiary shotgun she'd designed, the ODIN.

It was, to him, a work of art and beauty. Savage, unrefined, built for nothing less than the utter demolition of whatever it struck. And then he'd found out Shepard had designed dozens of other weapons, but had never submitted any of them. She'd fallen away from that work in the aftermath of the ODIN's unsavory reputation, the collapse of Oracal Demolitions, and her own issues, whatever they were.

The ODIN was a teasing hint into her ability. A weapon that could, if widely deployed, make a mockery of charging biotics, stubborn krogan, or heavily armored turians. He could and had developed weapons for ground use before, but compared to her design they were clumsy and inelegant. What could she do if they worked together, he filling any gaps in her deeper understanding of the mechanics, she using that astonishing creativity? Could she aid him in designing space weaponry as well, or even entirely new weapons concepts?

It was a heady thought, and one that drove him to literally crush every other applicant for this position, unleashing the full force of his genius and education for the first time in years. And when she'd casually shown that slovenly supply officer what she needed to build a new kind of sniper rifle, off the cuff and drawn on a napkin, he'd known that his idea would work. She had not lost her skill even after all these years.

He was sure that, with the proper prodding, he could get her to design weapons like that again. A mind like that was criminally wasted on gallivanting about shooting thugs. She could, with the proper guidance and assistance, help influence the next wave of weapons design for the Alliance Military. And help him with his own dreams.

His friends, few as they were, said he was obsessed with weapons – a fair complaint. But everyone, in his experience, was obsessed with something. Some with money, or sex, or power, or acceptance. Obsession was what made people tick, and it was how Jerred was able to break down and manipulate those around him.

And he would have to do the same to Shepard, he saw now. She wasn't someone who just accepted people blindly. He searched for clues of how to begin, watching her as she paced back and forth across the platform, her voice ringing with conviction.

Despite her habit of blanking her face and concealing her emotions, the Shepard he saw in the briefing room – and the one addressing the crew – was not a truly emotionless person. She was someone who didn't understand emotions and their responses entirely, but was trying to. He'd seen many people like that – researchers, focused on the next big thing. Tired worn out soldiers, too battered to process any longer. People who'd lost their way, either by disconnection from humanity or focus on something too clinical to maintain the bonds that kept them human.

Jerred was sure that the woman had lost her way simply because she had nothing to protect, nothing to fight for. It was clear in hearing her talk now to the crew, her protectiveness. This was a woman who had fled from contact with other people because she had to throw them away to achieve her goals, and was tired of it.

He gave a thin smile. People made too much of a fuss over deciphering other people. Groups like Terra Firma screamed about the alien and how different they were, but he'd worked with enough asari and salarians to realize they simply looked at life different. They weren't strange, just _different. _They ate, slept, laughed, cried, and feared. Bigotry towards them was a waste of time when you could instead take advantage of that different viewpoint to see things you'd otherwise miss.

Likewise, he didn't put much stock into so-called 'first impressions' and judging people by their pasts or rumors. No one let you see the real person on a first impression, so all you saw was the mask put up to present an idealized image. You had to see past that, over time and through watching their actions and reactions, to see anything worth analyzing. And people changed. If past behavior was an ironclad determinant of future actions, understanding people would be simpler, but it never worked that way.

People emphasized the wrong things in what they looked at in others, and then were shocked when their badly placed beliefs turned out wrong. Jerred was a master of that, using people's misconceptions to both understand how and why they thought that way, and to cloak his own disdain for most people.

As Shepard continued to speak, he reassessed everything he knew about her. Biotic, which gave her a measure of separation from normal humans. Bad childhood, criminal past – probably burdened with guilt, and yet more pragmatic than normal people clinging to childish beliefs. Lifelong military, compounded by her status as a Z2 – no life outside of the SA military, then. No real chance to relax and enjoy herself. No real understanding of social concepts the military never included. Loyal to her friends – fiercely so. Past betrayal by someone close? Or merely clinging to those few who saw past the scars?

Most importantly, and something he suspected most people missed – a fear of failure. Whether driven by her past failings and betrays, or by her isolation in a military culture and her biotic background, she was driven by the need not to fail those who mattered to her. That much was writ large in everything he knew about her, from her military record, the small number of people who truly knew her, the attention to detail in the briefing – even the sheer flawless nature of her uniform. It was the cause of the protectiveness he had noticed. She pursued perfection through hard work, and would only respect people who did the same, not out of wanting to be the best, but fear of not being good enough.

_Yes. _

He nodded to himself, keeping the smile on his face as his thoughts clicked together in his head. Now he knew how to approach her. Relying on his natural genius would alienate her or make her feel stupid. Better to present himself as a hard worker, long hours, determination. She was probably not yet comfortable with her new rank and titles – make a show of being unused to such and ask if she preferred formal or informal address. Obviously not used to small talk or getting to know people – use interest in weapons as common ground, downplay past and focus on wanting the best to protect 'her people'. She wouldn't care much about his own tragedies...but protecting , that she would like.

His smile widened, even as his eyes narrowed. She would be the kind of woman who didn't coddle people, expected them to step up, show their value. He wouldn't wait for her to task him with work but make aggressive suggestions.

If he played his cards right, she'd grow comfortable with him, and once he was assured that when he spoke she would listen, he'd share his dream.

O-ATTWN-O

Standing at something like attention on the other side of the line of officers in front of the crew, Anthony Dallas was, he concluded, bored. His nose itched, and he couldn't scratch it without breaking attention. Shepard wasn't a martinet, not based on the words coming out of her mouth, but he didn't intend to give her a bad impression any more than he already had.

He just wanted to scratch his nose so he could be comfortable.

Much of his life had been spent in the pursuit of mediocrity and contentment. Too poor to afford college, tired of being little more than a wage slave in decaying economy in the Miami Arcology, he'd had both ambition and drive in his youth, joining the SA in a patriotic fury, mastering the skill sets thrown at him. He had only been a ops tech for a month before he was tapped for OCS, graduating as an ensign and ready to face the galaxy.

The proudest day of his life was when he'd been selected to join the ranks of the _Solguard_, the elite defenders of Sol itself.

He'd worked hard, driving himself to fifteen hour days mastering his job, and spent nine months pushing that forward. Then the budget cuts came, and there was a force reduction, and despite all his hard work, his sweat and pride, he was cut, shipped off to Grissom Station on Mars, and stuck on monitoring airspace defense nets.

It affected him, greatly. He couldn't bring himself to push himself again, knowing it would amount to nothing in the end. Why bother?

It had been mere luck that got him saddled with double duty as supply officer of the facility, the original qualified officer dying in a freak suit accident. He'd done his job the best he could, losing himself in the minutia of the supply and logistics system to stave off despair and boredom.

Then he'd gotten a few requests for some 'off the books' supplies from one of the regimental combat teams. Rather than deny it, he pushed it through, covering it in the annual resupply confusion, mostly because the cute redheaded sergeant that had asked him for it had a nice ass and he figured he could talk her into a date for repayment.

He quickly discovered the supply officer of the base had more power than he thought. He was the one who managed to get extra suits of armor or medipaks when the budget didn't allow it, or upgrade the coffee from milspec to a civilian blend that didn't taste like oil sludge. He was the one who threw together 'supply security' details that allowed the bored marines to get back to Mars City and party for forty eight hours.

Trading little favors for other favors or an increasingly wide set of sexual conquests made him reconsider his position, and he threw himself a bit more into mastering logistics, eventually applying for a service transfer. Here, as in other future postings, his tour with the _Solguard _convinced people he was more skilled than he seemed.

He spent four years bouncing around comfortable duty stations. He didn't consider himself corrupt so much as flexible. He didn't sell SA material to outside sources, or anything criminal like that. But he wasn't averse to letting bored marines slip their own shipments into the supply paks, things like cigarettes, alcohol, even marijuana. He made plenty of connections with various duty officers, mid rank base officers, attaches – anyone who might need extra supplies here, or a cover for some office romance or a quick getaway.

He'd decided at some point that being the best was a shell game. You could bust your ass and still lose, despite how much effort you put into it. He focused instead on being satisfied with life and being comfortable. He stashed away the small bribes he got, used his connections to get him the kinds of postings that would keep him safe and comfy, and messed around with a handful of women who repeatedly needed his 'help' with the sort of things he could reroute.

When the transfer to Fifth Fleet's ground-side bases came along, he certainly didn't fight it – being stationed on Bekenstein was a blast,and supply runs to the Citadel were the holy grail of less-than-textbook supply officers. Bekenstein's marine contingent also had a fair number of asari in it, and he'd spent maybe a bit too much time learning about the wonders of going blue.

In fact, he'd spent so much time messing with asari girls that he'd stopped paying attention to transfer orders coming through the system. He'd been caught flatfooted by the sudden transfer to the Kazan, but he didn't even have time to try to fight the transfer before two Commissars had arrived at his duty station to 'escort him'. That had lead to a completely terrifying conversation with a Commissar in a lift-chair named Jiong, whose smile reminded Dallas of a cat gazing upon a crippled mouse.

He shuddered when he recalled the conversation.

"You are no doubt wondering why a man of your middling skills and fairly low rank would be picked to serve as Supply and Logistics for a command as prestigious as this, Lieutenant Dallas." Jiong had tapped a finger on a padd, scrolling a long list of line items Dallas recognized as cargo transactions. "Especially given your … non-compliant attitude towards shipment integrity and filing factual supply transportation manifests."

The man's smile had turned icy. "The Commissariat is everywhere, and we know everything. We did not act before this because, truly, the mischief you've achieved is minor compared to less wise supply officers who actually sold SA material to pirates. They are all dead. Your acts, however 'harmless', have possibly damaged unit readiness and exposed security flaws within our system, and the accounting for such is now coming due."

Jiong tapped the screen again. "You can do one of two things at this point. Through either scraps of what you call charm or the weak-minded nature of others, you have enough connections that,in normal circumstances, you could weasel out of this reassignment. If you do so – if you even attempt to do so – you will be arrested by the Commissariat, branded a traitor to the state, chemically castrated, shot, and thrown in a ditch to fertilize the crops on some class I farming commune." He paused. "I threw the castration in there just to be vicious."

"Or, you could accept your job with good grace, and use your … non-standard methods of acquisition and materials handling to procure non-standard and possibly illegal items for Major Shepard. She has a very … different view of how to equip her marines, and while I have every confidence that her ideas are sound, others differ in opinion. Rather than listen to their objections and be forced to assemble what she requires in piecemeal, your skills will let us do so undetected. One cannot object, after all, to that which is unknown."

Dallas had found his voice, somehow. "You want me to procure illegal weapons and armor, mods, ammo? Combat drugs? For the Butcher? Or else you kill me?"

Jiong smiled again. "An admirable summation, minus the fact that you will also need to obtain various black-market materials. Shepard likes polonium in her ammo loads, but was commenting that uranium hexafloride might be better."

Dallas stared at him in horror. "That's against Citadel law! SA law! Fuck, that would set off every radsafe alarm – "

Jiong tapped the pad. "Any man who can smuggle asari call girls, an entire pallet of nose candy, enough alcohol to disable an elcor, and not only get it through undetected but have the charges rerouted to pay for the call girls should be able to smuggle a little ammo."

So, Dallas was stuck.

But when he'd actually seen Shepard up close, he wondered how bad that really was. It wasn't like he minded the job, as long as it was safe. He'd not been a Shepard fanboy, exactly, but he'd kept up with her career like a lot of Marines did. Some Marines hated her for getting a lot of her men killed, but many more admired her for putting her foot up major batarian ass, and bitch-slapping the shit out of Saren had only made them cheer harder.

He admired her mostly for the fact that she could make a set of Cobalt Armor look sexy.

Like most people who didn't know her and could only see the public face, she had seemed icy and distant, a beautiful war goddess that didn't have time for shit like emotions or fear. The breathless and riveting newscasts of her fight against Saren across half a dozen locations had only emphasized that – shots of her cutting through geth, taking out Cerberus guys, all the stories coming off Noveria.

The grainy shots of her fight with Benezia, alongside the asari chick and what he finally realized was the same Commissar Jiong that had shanghaied him, was like something you'd see in an action movie. He'd known asari were powerful, but Jesus.

And Shepard had survived that. So, he was ambivalent about things. Sure, the days of six hour work days, cushy offices, banging girls from the supply cadre or hooking up with that hot asari sergeant in the 8th Armor were over, but he figured he'd get a nice promotion from this. With the big geth ship blown up and the rest running, he doubted Shepard or her ship would be in any real danger.

Then he'd met her and been briefed on what she wanted, and his eyes had nearly fallen out of his head. She wasn't as icy as he'd thought, laughing and smiling just like anyone else. And she was even more fucking gorgeous up close, he had to seriously make sure he didn't check her out too much.

But what had blown his mind were her plans for equipping her marines. She had an in with the manufacturers of Colossus Armor, and she wanted them to custom design marine combat suits. She wanted turian rifles, instead of SA ones, and she wanted salarian grenades. She wanted to retrofit the entire force with omni-shields and omni-blades. And she'd sketched out an idea of a custom rifle she wanted built for the scout-snipers – one she'd basically invented!

He'd be very, very busy. Pulling all this together, keeping it out of the sights of Alliance Logistical Review Command, bypassing customs and finding a smuggler to get a hold of shit like lance cannons and Phaeston rifles – that would be a pain in the ass. The rest of the shit on her list made even less sense, especially an off the record bone and tissue regen system, kinetic silencing dampeners for her quarters, and a medical support robot with codelocks on the VI.

He decided then and there he Did Not Need to Know, and had promised her he'd get it together ASAP. Jiong had given him a wink at that, and he couldn't stop from shuddering at the idea of chemical castration.

_Death was bad enough, but castration? Fucking really? _

And now they were about to head out. He'd already gotten on SASLNet, the logistics system of the SA, and had been calling in favors all day. He'd carefully approached Jiong and suggested that some of what they wanted would be easier to get with Commissariat approval, and was stunned when the man gave him a Commissariat Override PIN. That would allow him to classify and obscure many of the requests he made, with only another Commissar able to see past.

He'd been aboard the ship, briefly – he had nice quarters, not lavish but nice, and his own office – even a staff, a knockout blond bombshell, two cute redheads and a brunette he knew from Bekenstein who'd he'd already slept with . This wasn't so bad, really. Either Jiong was making this easy on him, or he'd just gotten lucky. All in all, this would work out fine. Hell, he might even get promoted from it all.

It wasn't so bad. Except the threat of castration. And having to get back into shape. And shave every day. Still. He could make this work.

Now, where could he get his hands on a goddamned medical VI bot?

O-ATTWN-O

Tyrone Cole smiled faintly as he stood at perfect attention, half his attention on Shepard's speech, the other half on memories.

He wasn't really sure why he was here, if he was honest with himself, and every Cole knew that not being straight with yourself was a ticket that lead bad places. He told himself it was due to the last message from his father, but a part of him was still .. uncertain.

His grandaddy had been a Z1 convict with an addiction to sand and heroin, who'd knocked up his grandma before getting his legs blown off by gangers in the Chi-Town Arcology. After that he'd settled down, marrying Grandma and trying to turn his life around from a rickety wheelchair and zero education.

He didn't know about Momma's parents when he was growing up – she never said anything about them, and asking Uncle Albert had resulted in the old man boxing his ears and telling him to mind his schoolwork. Papa had always gotten an ugly, angry look on his face whenever he'd asked, but never gave him any answers either.

Wasn't until was grown and had access to the extranet he learned the truth – they'd been criminals, a lot worse than his grandaddy. Slavers.

His mom and dad had met in the SA military, and when his mom was medically discharged after losing an arm on Binthos IX, they'd gotten married and had three kids. Tyrone was the eldest, his younger brother Anthony being the smart one and little Jessica going into news-casting. Tyrone, big like his dad and nearly as tough, had signed up for the infantry as soon as he hit 18.

He loved the SA, loved the Blue, loved knowing he was fighting for his family. The stains of the family's criminal past drove his own dad to be literally perfect at everything. It made him a hard man to please, a man who would drive himself to drinking and ignoring his family for long deployments. Greg Cole breathed and lived the SA even more than Tyrone did, and it wasn't until after Torfan and Mindoir that he loosened up a bit.

Tyrone loved his dad, patterning his whole life after his. He wanted to see his dad grin and fling his arm around him, to hear him bragging about 'my boy' to his buddies on Eden Prime. Moving there had cost the family almost everything they saved up, but Tyrone was happy. His momma was happy, Anthony was graduating college and headed to get his doctorate at the University of Chicago, and Jessica had been accepted as an intern with Westerlund News.

Then the geth had come to Eden Prime. Tyrone had been on leave, accompanying Jessica on her trip to Earth when the news had broken. They saw the tower they called home blown in half, bodies tumbling through the sky, black clouds of smoke marring the perfect blue skyline. They watched, crying, as the fields burned.

Tyrone had never prayed much, but he'd fallen to his knees and begged God to let his family live. When he got the message from his momma that she and Anthony had been at Tower Nine shopping and were fine, he'd cried like a baby. When his dad had finally gotten off a TTG message that he was still alive and assigned to Commander Shepard's ship, he'd whooped with joy.

He'd been serious about his military career before, but he kicked it in high gear now. He'd been tapped for OCS just as Shepard was beating the shit out of the geth on Therum,and he'd managed to keep track of the Normandy's fights even while busting his ass in Officer Training. Seven hard months of learning tactics, training, and war-fighting. Working with armor units, gaining new skills.

When he was done, he planned to see if he couldn't get assigned to the Normandy, and fight along side his dad. The old man would get a kick out of being ordered around by his own son.

He'd gotten a message from Dad on Thessia, a video mail – expensive and rare. He'd kept it with him and played it nearly every day, just to hear his dad's voice.

"Tyrone. Here on Thessia, got a bit of downtime. Things are starting to cool off, I think, now that we killed that skank and her boyfriend, so I thought I'd shoot you a line or two. Heard from my pals in BuPers you went OCS – good. I'm damned proud of you, son. Never forget that."

"It's funny, how this trip has gone. Never thought I'd go from pushing boots on Eden Prime to fighting geth, Cerberus and crazy asari tramps. I'm waiting for something to go wrong – I figure that we haven't found that black ship yet, so this shit isn't over."

"No matter what happens, boy, I want you to promise me two things. Take care of Marlene, Anthony and Jessica, if something happens to me. I've spent my days trying to clean off the shame of what Dad pulled when he was my age, and so has Marlene. Now, with all the shit that's happened, I'm sorry I didn't spend more time with you. Telling you how proud I am of the man you've become. I never gave much thought to dying until I came on this trip, but I've got a feeling something bad is yet to come, so you make me proud one more time and take care of your family."

"Second thing. We're both soldiers, Tyrone. We both know that we can get taken out any day of the week. Could die doing something damnfool stupid, like those crazy DACT who are gonna splatter themselves over a rock one day. I don't do bits and pieces, and I never did anything like that. I don't want you to either...but I got something preying on my mind I can't get out."

"Had a conversation with Shepard not long back. It's hard to watch a soldier like her hurting, and knowing there's nothing you can do. She told me she just wanted to die, sometimes, to get taken out and buried so that all the pain would end. I've been where she is. You get there by not remembering that you're not alone. If something does happen to me, and Shepard makes it out alive … she needs a Cole there to back her up. With any luck, nothing will happen. But if it does...remind her she's not alone, boy. And remember that you aren't either. I'll always be with you, alive or dead."

"Bah, enough depressing bullshit. Ain't nothing alive badass enough to kill me, anyway. You take care of yourself. When we get done, you and I will hit the Citadel and get loud. Or maybe come back here to Thessia." His father had grinned, panning the camera pickup to one side, as an asari barely wearing anything walked past.

"Damn shame I'm married."

His father's single good eye had stared out of that message, locking onto his own. "I love you, boy. Tell your brother to stop messing around with that hussy from Tower Six, and I'll be back home in a few weeks. Make me proud."

That had been it. He bit his lip, remembering how happy he'd been to hear those words.

"I'm proud of you."

Then the news from Virmire had come in. The grim visage of Commander Shepard, her face pale, eyes reddened and grieving, describing the fall of Master Chief Gregory Cole. His mother had collapsed, crying and shaking, his siblings had wept and needed a strong hand. The other, more distant family members, awkwardly coming by to offer condolences. The empty steel coffin, the droning voice of the pastor as he'd spoken. Turning the silver star in the narrow window of their new apartment to the blue side.

He couldn't let himself fall apart, like Momma. He'd kept his eyes dry, and been their rock. He handled the burial, the payments, the insurance. He'd moved money around and made sure everything was okay financially. He'd gotten Momma to see a psychologist, spent time with Anthony and Jessica, telling them they'd make it through.

And then he'd put on his dad's expression, and finished his OCS. Before he'd just been determined, now he was driven. He'd beaten out everyone for the position of honor cadet, first in his class, graduate with honors. They'd told him he could request pretty much any posting he wanted, and so sent his request into BuPurs – request assignment to active duty with Commander Shepard.

He knew, watching the news after the battle of the Citadel, they were going to put her somewhere, and he planned to be there. When it came back approved, he'd just packed his bags and left.

Now he was here. He'd seen the look of sorrow and grief on Shepard's face – and more surprisingly, on that of the asari and even the Commissar. He knew it hurt Shepard just to look at him, and see his father's eyes, his father's cheekbones. Their voices were similar, even. A tiny, immature part of him liked that. Served her right for getting his dad killed.

But he knew she hadn't. She was angry at herself, he could see that much, but the pain in that first glance told him that blaming her wouldn't do any more damage than she'd already done to herself. Oddly enough, it had been the Commissar who'd taken him aside after the briefing to explain.

"Major Shepard admired your father greatly, Lieutenant. I think everyone on the Normandy did. He was the most … perfect NCO I'd ever seen, less a mortal and more like duty made flesh. He died in a fashion that was horrifying...and he died with defiance on his lips, making sure the bomb that prevented Lady Benezia's army from being even more overwhelming went off. If not for his sacrifice, I fear the assault on the Citadel would have ended in her victory."

The Commissar had fixed his cold gaze on Tyrone. "I have no clue what drove you to pick this assignment, Lieutenant. But I will say one thing, and you should listen. Do not get yourself killed. Shepard hasn't forgiven herself for your father's death, nor the death of Lieutenant Alenko, the man setting the bomb your father died protecting. Despite her great strength, in many ways she is .. fragile. For you to die in a pointless act would be too much to bear, I think, even for her."

Tyrone had only nodded. "I don't intend to die, Commissar-Captain. I'm here to fuck up some geth and make sure I follow my dad's last request, to take care of the business he couldn't. There was a Cole at the start of this mess, and there will be a Cole here to finish it."

Jiong had raised an eyebrow. "Finish what, exactly? Saren and Benezia are dead, N...the geth ship in pieces."

Tyrone folded his arms. "The Prez didn't give Shepard all this firepower and backup because things were looking like rainbows and clouds. I don't know what's up, but I know my gut is telling me more shit is headed down the pipeline. Am I wrong?"

The Commissar had given a sudden, chilling grin. "Much like your father, you see more clearly than most, Lieutenant. You are not wrong. But keep my words in mind as you follow your father's wishes. I have no doubts he would also not want you to die if it can be avoided."

Tyrone took a deep breath, swallowing, and watched Shepard finish up her speech. It didn't really matter what was coming. Dad always said that you couldn't hold yourself in the past over bullshit that no one could change. He was here to do what he'd been asked, and if that meant being the baddest motherfucker in the valley of the shadow of death, he was ready.

O-ATTWN-O

Shepard exhaled as she finished her little speech, and glanced over her crew. "Alright. As I said, I'm not one for long ass speeches. You know what you are expected to do, and what I expect from you. I will not be happy until any enemy that even sees the Kazan pisses themselves in fear, and to get there each of you is just as important as I am."

"Fall out by division and stand by for the dock rats to clear off. You have three hours to get your shit together and on board. We are leaving at 1500 sharp, and if you miss ship's movement you won't answer to me, but to Commissar Jiong."

The Commissar patted his flame unit with a happy smile, and Shepard smothered a grin when she saw more than one sailor or officer shudder. "Then get to it, Kazan. Dismissed."

She turned to Jiong as the crew broke up into groups, and arched an eyebrow. "Everything ready?"

Jiong nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I've taken the liberty of ensuring the Arcturus media think the launch is at 2000 hours. My sec-team from the Commissariat will be here in one hour, we'll do a walk-through of the ship before launch. I don't expect any issues."

Shepard nodded. "Did you speak with Lieutenant Dallas about the … items I spoke of for my quarters?"

Jiong nodded. "Yes. If anyone can get them, he can. There are more than a few corrupt supply officers in the ranks, but that man is an artist. He's perfect. Slimy, but very creative and he hasn't really broken any laws that would make me have to kill him. I've indulged his tastes in terms of his supply crew and general laziness, but I'm keeping an eye on him. A more conventional supply officer would be useless for what you require - both for the marines and for your … privacy issues."

Shepard shrugged. "It's one thing for the Normandy crew to know about it, another for the entire crew of a cruiser. We'll be discreet."

Jiong sighed, gesturing to a line-car in the distance. "Your discretion is roughly on par with your elocution, Major. I despair at ever augmenting either of them to endurable levels."

She laughed. "And you still need to speak plainly, Black Hat. No one else complains about how I talk."

Jiong rolled his eyes. "Who else would dare?"


	3. Chapter 3 : Pain and PRIDE

**A/N:** _This is a chapter that some will disagree with. After the next chapter, the action picks up a little. Like I said, there's fluff and character building in this linking piece.  
><em>

_Alfred Jiong is the most difficult of my various OC's to write. Jiong's poise, intelligence, and seeming perfection is a mask worn over a deeply unhappy, badly wounded man unable to be himself. An exploration of that and other characters is something I almost did in the first story but found no real opening for, so it's only logical I do so here. _

_If at the end you don't hate the SA just a little more... ha.  
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_As for Shepard's actions at the last, well … Progman reminded me that symbols can be chains as well as reminders. I originally intended for it burn in the wreckage of the Normandy as it crashed on Alchera, but that, in hindsight, would have sent exactly the wrong message. I owe Progman for helping me to pick the right time.  
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_The Kazan is a heavy cruiser, pretty much almost a pocket battle-cruiser. It wasn't influenced by turian designs, and that will show in the layout of the ship. Visualize it as similar but larger than a standard Alliance cruiser. I'm drawing up the deck plans now, I'll post them on my logicalpremise dot org site later.  
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_As an aside: Kazan is not only a beautiful city in Russia, but the name of a fascinating book. Check Wikipedia. _

* * *

><p>"<em>You can pay a soldier to fire a gun. You can pay him to charge the enemy and take a hill. But you can't pay him to believe."<em>

– _Admiral Steven Hackett, 'On Conversations with a Hero'_

* * *

><p>"This is Major-Commander Sara Shepard, KoUE, commanding officer of Battle Group Chiron. By order of the Systems Alliance Admiralty, Special Operations, Arcturus Command and Presidential Order 16630, I hereby take command of the Systems Alliance Heavy Cruiser Kazan."<p>

Shepard turned to the dockside commander standing in the hatchway. "Commander Johanson, you stand relieved. I have the deck and the conn. VI, log the time."

Shepard smiled as the man bowed and stepped aside, allowing her to step onto her new command for the first time. She'd spent the past hour or so going over all the blueprints and layouts, but she had to see it for herself before she would feel comfortable.

Unlike the Normandy, the entry dock on the Kazan was a single wide airlock nine feet wide and ten feet tall, large enough to allow even battle suits to exit. A matching airlock was on the other side of the ship, both connected to an armored tube that bisected the fourth deck. The tube was lined with security stations, turrets, barricades and static defenses to prevent hostile boarders.

The rest of the fourth deck, accessible by blast doors on the aft wall, was given over to the marines. Sleeping areas, a firing range, the ship's armory, and the staging and cargo area for the ship's battlesuits and MAKO tanks was on this deck, along with offices of the ship's Battle Duty Officer and Command Master Chief. Forward of the tube was storage for armor, workshops for repairs to the vehicles and suits, and a large briefing area for all hands comms.

Two elevators flanked the doorway. Shepard stepped inside the portside elevator, tapping the haptic panel to take her to deck one. Deck two was crew quarters, the galley, wardroom, kitchen, food storage, ship's lounge, exercise areas, and the medbay. Deck three was officer and NCO country, and the science labs. The damage control shop and weapons battery were also there along with sensors and other electronics. Deck five was the core reactor, cargo bay and engineering, and deck six was only a half deck containing the ships hydroponics area, life support systems, and bulk storage. The other half of deck six was partially open to space, the docking area for fighters and the pinnace, as well as the racks of drop pods for the troops.

Deck one was a combination of the bridge, CIC, and her stateroom and offices. Almost three times the size of the Normandy CIC, the forward area of the room was narrowly triangular in shape, rather than the more curved shape of the turian-flavored Normandy. The front of the deck was the pilot's deck, where Joker and two sub-pilots maneuvered the ship. Directly aft of that was Ops Alley, thirty stations of ECM and sensor operators, curved chairs angled up to face triple panels of haptic screens and displays.

The deck opened sharply after Ops Alley into the CIC proper. The center of the room was the plot, a circular display surrounded by the stations of the weapons operators, the front dominated by the weapons officer's master control panel. Rather than the rather grandiose looking 3-D galaxy map of the Normandy it featured flat haptic displays of the relays, augmented with floating representations of the Kazan and contacts surrounding it.

The port and starboard sides of the room held huge armaglass portals under independent kinetic barriers, allowing a vast view of the outside of the ship, flanked by large haptic display screens. Two banks of consoles were set off several feet from the screens. The port set of consoles was the station of the Science officer and staff, linked to the ships powerful sensor array and collection of probes. The starboard panels had small stations for the comms officer, the duty engineer, and onboard security.

The back wall of the room was taken up by the CO's command station, the two elevators, emergency damage control stations, and the corridor towards her quarters and stateroom.

The ceilings were lower in the Normandy CIC – here , angled rows of displays curved around the elevated CO platform, giving her an instant glance at engine power, core status, shield levels, power distribution, communications and more. A comfortable seat automatically elevated from the ground to snap in place as she approached, a slender shelf splitting apart on top of station to display a computer interface and a collection of ship communications circuits, as well as a simplified repeater that would allow basic course changes, speed control, shield status, and weapons fire.

She glanced around the CIC, noting that already the techs had everything running, and Liara was already standing at the science station, her arms folded and her expression one of fierce concentration as she listened to the enlisted man next to her, pointing out displays. She smiled as she walked past, up through ops alley toward the bridge and pilot area.

Heavy armaplast windows curved sharply around the nose of the room, with two seats sunk into the decking and the main pilot station elevated a good foot. Already ensconced in the chair was Joker, his hands moving almost too fast to follow as he went through prelaunch checklists. "Hey, Commander. I mean, Major. Shit. What's up?"

Shepard snickered. "Checking up on you, Joker."

Joker pulled his hat down a bit and brought up a fuel display on one floating haptic panel. "Anderson used to do that. I know what I'm doing. Brilliance requires focus, and you are disturbing my chi." He nodded sagely to himself, and Shepard shook her head with a small smile at his antics.

The pilot to the left, a slender man with brown hair trimmed close to his skull and a scar on his cheek, snickered. "Major, was the Flight Commander always this full of shit?"

Shepard folded her arms. "He grows on you, Ensign Hemsley. Much like fungus." She glanced at the other pilot, a young woman with flat black hair and Asiatic features. "Seriously, everything is nominal? We already had one issue that would have caused some problems on launch."

The other pilot gave a quick nervous nod, her eyes not straying from her displays. "Yes, ma'am! Secondary flight surfaces reporting green across the board. Dock umbilici one through nine disconnected and visual inspection shows all ports sealed."

Joker tapped a control. "Fuel systems are nominal – thank Tali for me, it would have been no fun flying while on fire from fuel leaks, assuming we didn't, you know, explode. I have main control, Ensigns Hemsley and Li An will be handling secondary maneuver control." He paused. "This seat is kinda stiff, any chance for an upgrade? Or at least a coffee holder?"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "No. I'll be in my stateroom if anyone is looking for me, not that they'd come up here. When we clear all checks, go ahead and set course for the relay. I'm all speeched out for the day. Let Pressly make the 1MC announcement."

Joker nodded. "Yes, Major. See? Learning?"

Pilot Hemsley just blinked. "And I thought I was flaky."

Joker hissed. "You are."

Shepard let the three pilots continue to bicker as she turned on a heel and walked back down the Ops Alley, pausing to nod at Pressly as she passed. "Jiong already on board?"

The big man nodded, scowling at a display before turning to face her fully. "Yes, ma'am, in your stateroom. We're about done with the pre-flight level nine checklist. I just need to finish getting the watch sections squared away and we'll be ready for pullout. The cranes will be moving us to hard space in five. We just need launch clearance and for you to authorize drive release."

Shepard nodded. "Good job. Joker will take us out when it's time, alert the crew if you would, I'll be occupied with Jiong."

She smiled at his nod, walking further aft, glancing over the communication stations and the stiff stance of Ensign Traynor. "Something wrong, Ensign?"

Traynor, absorbed in her displays, gave a slight start of fright, eyes wide. "N-no ma'am. Just running through the countermeasures testing sequences we have. There...ah, there's a communications circuit routed to your stateroom I don't have access to."

Shepard nodded. "Yes. I know. I'm afraid you don't have clearance."

Traynor frowned. "But the entire command crew has Nova level clearance."

Shepard smiled. "The circuit is for private communications either from the President in my capacity as his personal agent, or the Citadel Council in my capacity as a Spectre. You'd need Tantalus level clearance for those. They should be locked out, but whenever one is active, please make sure we have a clear comm signal and engage whatever you can to prevent someone hacking into the call."

Traynor nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I think we have a cross-current circuit amplifier that we could use to lock in a signal to the main … uh. Sorry. I have a good idea of how to get on that, ma'am. Didn't mean to get technical." She paused, and winced. "Not that I am implying you don't understand the technical – "

Shepard gave her a smile, and placed her hand on Traynor's shoulder."Breathe, Ensign. I get it. I may be cleared on electronics and comms, but you're here because you're better at it than I am. If you say it will be secure, I know it will be."

Traynor smiled back, pleased with the praise. "Yes ma'am."

"Good. If anything critical comes in, I'll be in my stateroom."

She entered the corridor leading to her personal areas. She'd come to view the cramped cabin aboard the Normandy as 'home', but she couldn't suppress a little excitement at the upgrade she'd gotten in taking command of the Kazan. She'd been handed the Normandy, after all … but she had earned her current command.

Deciding Jiong could wait another minute or two, she entered her quarters. As with most SA staterooms, it was a squarish block, a good fifteen feet long and almost as wide. Black steel decking served as the floor, a low half-wall bisecting the room with space to walk past on either side. The low wall was the mounting for a work desk and small shelf, and another status repeater display. Tucked into a corner was a small table with three chairs around it, and Shepard smiled to see venting to remove cigarette smoke had already been installed. A sliding door revealed a small armory space.

She walked in, noting the desk had her journal and her personal padd on it, along with two books she'd picked up on the Citadel regarding weapons development. Three haptic picture frames curved around the far end of the desk – one of her and Von Grath, smoking cigars, feet propped up on a batarian terrorist's chest. One of her and Anderson, the day she was made a Spectre. And one she'd taken of Liara, smiling faintly, when they were at Flux the night before departing for Noveria.

She glanced into her armor cabinet, seeing her suit of Spectre armor, and then glanced over the other half of the quarters. A standard SA bunk was against the wall, which looked like it could fold up to make a couch. The rest of the room was blank and plain – two steel cabinets, a standing wardrobe, and a flat-panel door cracked open to show a shower and toilet combination took up most of the space. Her only alteration was in having a small omnifoundry unit tucked in the near corner along with a rack for weapons.

Her ODIN – still displaying melted spots on the rubberized handle from the last fight on the Citadel – was racked there. So was her heavy sniper, Saren's Sunfire-B pistol, and a pair of customized Revenant LMG. The last thing on the rack was a mocking gift from Von Grath – an omnisword, a rod about nine inches long with an augmented power supply and a short, spade shaped blade that when energized created an 550 TeV omnifield.

She smirked as she read the note he'd tied to the hilt – '_For the next time you are silly enough to bring a gun to a swordfight_' – and then glanced around the room. Her Penal Legion blanket, shipbag and personal effects – mostly a single suitcase with a handful of the civilian clothes she'd gotten on the Citadel, her few pictures, and her ship models – were sitting on the middle of her bed. She grunted and turned to cross the narrow hallway, entering her stateroom.

The stateroom was slightly smaller than her living area, dominated by an armorplast desk much like the one in her office on Arcturus Station. A repeater status panel and several other haptic screens dominated the port side of the room, along with a personal comm station. The right side of the room had a series of haptic images of ships bearing the name Kazan – several old naval ships from the Pre-Alliance era, a MKV Cruiser from the First Contact War, and a heavy cruiser of the old style destroyed in the Battle of Horizon. Below this was a low bookcase and a shelf of haptic storage media, probably systems manuals or something along those lines. The floor was thinly carpeted in plain Alliance blue, and the overhead had the symbol of the SA embossed over the thin steel surface.

The desk had a comfortable mesh chair with a liquid-swivel mount base, and she sat down with a small sigh, before glancing at Jiong who was seated in a smaller but otherwise identical chair in front of her desk. "So. We're about to launch."

Jiong nodded. "As a command officer of flag rank, this will be your first assignment where you actually need a political officer. The Normandy was an impressive ship, but hardly a danger to society as a whole. Officers in command of a heavy cruiser or above, much less an entire battle group, are more concerning to the Systems Alliance, since if you went rogue you could pose a threat to a garden world or embarrass the SA as a whole. As such, while you have command of BG Chiron, it is my duty to ensure you are discharging your orders in a manner consistent with SA mandates, Admiralty directives, and where applicable, Citadel treaties and law."

Shepard rubbed her temples. "I figured that much."

Jiong nodded. "It's also my duty to execute you if you become a danger to the SA. On that, I'm afraid my conditioning is rather inflexible. Since we both know how that would end, especially if Lady Liara was present, I would suggest that if you decide to take some sudden, Shepard-like action such as going rogue or mutiny against the orders of the Admiralty that you kindly do so when I'm off the ship. Of all the possible ways to die, being executed by two beautiful women does not top my bucket list."

Shepard laughed. "Aww, Alfred. You do like me."

Jiong sighed. "You are more tolerable than my last assignment...but not by much." He gestured to the safe on the wall, next to her desk. "The ship cannot engage full drive systems or arm any weapons until the systems are removed from codelock. For a frigate that duty was solely up to the CO and XO – here, the Political Officer and CO are the ones who have access." He triggered his omnitool, and she did the same, and the safe unlocked. Shepard pulled out a single laser keycard and then turned it over, frowning.

"I'm used to just a scanstrip." The card glittered in the light, a series of mirrors inside containing a unique combination of data that allowed access to highly secured systems, rather than a printed barcode like she'd seen on the Normandy.

Jiong sniffed. "Not secure enough. The keycard can be inserted into the panel below the repeater display. The VI should decrypt the code and announce the results – as well as our orders and situation briefing."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Fancy."

She followed his instructions, and the VI chimed politely. "Scanning. Codes recognized. Welcome, Major-Commander Shepard, Commissar-Captain Jiong. Authorization validated. Weapons and drive systems unlocked. Stand by for orders."

The haptic screen on the far wall flickered into life, the VI's voice speaking even as images flashed up. "From Command, Second Fleet, Special Operations, to Battle Group Chiron, Kazan. Orders are as follows: depart 1500 from Arcturus Station, make standard rated speed to relay to Sigurd's Cradle. Shift to secondary relay at maximum rated speed to Skopsis system. Achieve high anchorage at Watson and dock with Scorpion Weapons Station. Onload required systems and medical team at station. Authorization of no more than five hours for loading and embark/disembark cycle."

"Proceed to shakedown evaluation by accessing secondary relay, Lenal system, at varied speeds for shakedown operations. Turian Hierarchy aware of your presence. Conducted level fifteen engineering subsystem and ops system testing, level ten engine systems testing, and level five calibration battery. Test fire each weapons system and record deformation patterns by targeting asteroids. Conclude testing with full level nine life support, sensor, and fighter launch tests. Stand down from shakedown and return to Arcturus at maximum rated speed. Orders end."

Shepard opened her mouth to speak when the VI chimed again.

"Addendum to orders. Classification Tantalus, Level Nine." The VI's voice shifted to that of Elizabeth Windsor-Turham at this point. "Shepard, be advised that the Kazan has already undergone full testing. Deliberate and easy to identify and fix errors in ship's fuel systems were introduced in drydock to justify to crew the need for shakedown. This cruise will allow you to review your crew, but the real purpose is to investigate anomalous sensor readings we have been detecting near the Lenal system. AIS agents have not been able to operate openly in the area, but we have information from outside sources that a possible Cerberus facility was in the region. If found, capture it intact if at all possible. If nothing is found, make best speed back to Arcturus so you can report onwards to Pinnacle Station."

The VI shut off, and Shepard sighed. "Well, at least we know the shakedown will go smoothly."

Jiong frowned. "That is … rather unusual. Something about this doesn't make much sense. They could have just loaded the missiles and torpedoes on a transport and had us load up here, if we didn't really need a shakedown. Sending a high profile ship with a famous CO and untested crew to check out a possible Cerberus base in turian territory is … "

Shepard shrugged. "Fishy?"

Jiong leaned back. "I hardly wish to cast aspersions on the command structure, and suppositious conclusions are not going to help us in the short term." He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "I suppose we will have to wait and see, as there is little aside from speculation that we can do now. Aside from the orders, I have the PRIDE reports for the crew ready. Summaries for general crew, specifics for the command crew."

Shepard grimaced. PRIDE, or the Political Reliability Index for Direct Evaluation, was the system used to evaluate the dependability of SA officers. A mix of psychological evaluation, paranoid snooping, and sociological examination, it always left a bad taste in Shepard's mouth to do the things, much less review them.

Unfortunately, once the Commissariat had learned about the dangers of indoctrination, it became even more determined that PRIDE checks would be done and done often. Taking command of a ship was one of those hard checkpoints that required them.

She nodded. "Alright, I'm all ears."

Jiong nodded, consulting his padd. "I've reviewed the PRIDE ratings of the incoming crew. The lowest was a 3.1, well above baseline. Most crew members have at least five years of service with no serious infractions. The entire crew is human with the exception of two asari in secondary ops, who both have eleven years of service. They are, I believe, commoners – I have already had their division NCO make them aware of the presence of Lady Liara. I have vetted them carefully to ensure they are not spies from the Asari Republic. Other than that, the crew is well-trained and refreshingly eager."

Shepard nodded, and he continued. "The junior command cadre – the navigator, the assistant engineer, the CIC coordinator, assistant pilots, fighter command officer, and the damage control officer – all have PRIDE ratings of greater than 4.0, which means they should give us no problems. Aside from slight hero-worshiping tendencies in the DCO and a good deal of arrogant pride in the navigator, there are no real issues to address. Given that they will mostly interact with Pressly, I doubt you will need much information on them, but I've forwarded their service records to your system."

He tapped the padd. "Which brings us to the command crew, the most critical component of the ship's company. As a point of order, your own PRIDE rating remains 4.2. You will also be happy to note that, since your Z2 restriction has been removed, Commissariat monitors usually installed to follow you around are no longer present – the only Commissariat staff on board beside me are my four clearly identifiable subordinates – Commissar Susan D'Alte and Lancers Jackson and Grassi."

There was a slightly strained note in his voice as he mentioned the same Susan, but Shepard only nodded. "Well, it's good to know I'm not a danger to the SA. Who's up next?"

He looked up. "For the command crew, I started with Pressly. PRIDE rating of 4.7. The man is stable, competent, mildly ambitious, and strong-willed. He has a personal admiration for you stemming from your actions at Dirth – his family was there – as well as professional appreciation. Positives include a high index against treasonous thought, strong pro-human beliefs, and a refreshing lack of personal dishonesty. Negatives are mostly stressors from his divorce and his dislike of turians, which was not aided by Mr. Vakarian's concealment of Ms. Telanya's reasons for being on the Normandy. Psychologically he's a doer and a systems-builder. He likes making things work. He prides himself on details, on picking up pieces people miss and dependability. He has a mild sense of xenophobia but it does not appear to extend to Lady Liara or Ms. Zorah."

She nodded. "I've noticed that. The attention to detail, that is. And Liara says he's … kind."

Jiong nodded and rubbed his chin. "All in all, I'd say there are no worries for your XO. I'm afraid the same isn't true for the rest of your staff, ma'am."

Shepard frowned. "Explain."

Jiong sighed. "With the exception of Pressly, who I just covered and is well within parameters, and the Comms Ensign Traynor, who is somewhat boring and fairly well balanced, each of the command staff have at least one strike against them. While none of them fall below the 2.0 threshold that requires Commissariat monitoring and denial of promotion, none of them are at the expected 3.8 to 4.0 mark we would normally see in command crew. That may bring additional scrutiny onto them and you if there are difficulties in our missions."

Shepard sighed. "Alright. Who's first?"

Jiong tapped his padd."We'll start with Joker. His PRIDE rating was never that high to begin with, currently 2.8. Mr. Moreau isn't here because he has pride in the Systems Alliance, or because he loves humanity, or even because he is ambitious. He is here because he is rather childishly defying both his parents and everyone who expected him to be nothing more than an invalid."

He sighed. "He is immensely talented, very intelligent and surprisingly good at interpreting body language and motivation. He is also very homesick, a borderline depressive-manic personality with a lot of resentment and anger issues. His attachment to Ms. Zorah is definitely not mentally healthy, as their relationship is less based on how they are alike and more on their mutual resentments of authority figures, personal conditions, and a feeling of powerlessness."

Shepard exhaled. "I know Joker's a bit abrasive and he has a chip on his shoulder -"

Jiong shook his head. "Ma'am, I'm not saying this to be a hard-ass or a martinet. If the boy was merely acting out, I would care less. He is unstable. If he's put in a situation where he feels his flying ability wasn't good enough to prevent a disaster, he will come apart at the seams, because that is the only thing in his entire life he can take pride in, the only thing that makes him feel like he's worth anything. If he's force to choose between his relationship with Ms. Zorah and the Systems Alliance, there is every chance he will choose her. The ignorance of previous commands in alienating the boy is partially addressed by the way he looks up to you, but even that is, I'm afraid, tinged with jealousy. The worst part of this is on most levels he is not even aware he feels this way."

Shepard swallowed. "I trust Joker. 2.7 is still above the baseline minimum, yes?"

Jiong nodded. "Yes, it is. I am merely giving you a warning. You have already admitted that you don't always understand people. I, on the other hand, have years of training in analyzing people, psychology, and reams of reports. Tapped conversations. Monitored emails. The point of the PRIDE system is to let you know exactly where your people stand … and where they are likely to cause issues."

Shepard sighed. "Liara, Tali, and Joker made it through the shit we spent the last year doing, Jiong. Doesn't that prove they should be trusted? Are you saying I should get rid of Joker because he's still young and pissed off at God for giving him fucked up bones?"

Jiong stood, and began to pace, his graceful features agitated. "I am not saying that, Shepard. I am saying that yes, some of your staff has proven themselves. They've also taken _damage. _I'm not here to tear down Joker. He's a fine pilot, and in his own way he's braver than I could ever hope to be. I'm not casting aspersions on his feelings towards Ms. Zorah. If he can find happiness that way, more power to him and her. But I cannot – my conditioning and training will not allow me – to gloss over the problems that he, and Liara, and Tali, and the rest have. And you cannot afford to ignore them. The strongest blade will break after enough wear and tear."

His eyes narrowed. "You, of all people, with your experience on Torfan, should know the value of actually understanding the deeper motivations and conditions of your team."

She flinched at that, and glared. "That...isn't fair."

Jiong shrugged. "I don't like it anymore than you do. Less, even. How would you feel if you were brainwashed into paranoid suspicions about your friends twenty four hours a day? If you were made incapable of fully trusting anyone, of having to dole out justice without mercy and punishment without mitigation for an entire decade, all the while wishing and hoping something would change and not being able to do anything about it? I judge because I am here to judge, not because I like it."

He gave her a hard , clear look, and she shook her head. "I'm not going to like the rest, am I?"

He exhaled, and sat back down. "No. I know you hate bullshit and fancy talk, but this is important. You have to understand these things. You are a critical person of importance now. You are the one who most deeply understands the threat of the Reapers. You have the credibility to make people listen, the power to get things done. Mr. Cole remarked to me that our struggle isn't over, the President would not expend all these resources on you for the sake of some political infighting. Would he?"

She shook her head. "No. I can't tell you the details, but … no."

Jiong nodded. "Then listen to me when I tell you something that will save their lives. They all have flaws. I am not talking about their combat ability, or ability to perform their jobs. Lady Liara is far more intelligent than I. Tali'Zorah's hasty examination on engineering concepts showed she was the match of any veteran engineer in the Fleet. Mr. Dallas, for all his quirks, is one of the better hackers and logistics officers I've seen. Mr. Colms is a literal genius with a higher IQ than 99% of the human population. Mr. Cole tore through OCS as if it was boot camp."

His fingers tapped at his padd hard enough to deform the screen. "Their problems are in their histories and personalities, their drives and needs. Those are what you have to understand. If it comes down to it, can I trust Joker to do what's best? No, I can't, because he and I don't see eye to eye on what is important. For me, it is the SA's security – for him it's his friends. Pressly, if he had to, would sacrifice his friends for the SA. You, if you absolutely had to, would sacrifice almost anything to stop a threat to the galaxy."

Jiong looked up. "But some of them will not, and the time for you to know where they stand is not when the chips are down, but now, where you can plan ahead."

She sighed. "Fine. Continue."

Jiong nodded, then grimaced. He spoke of Tyrone Cole's suppressed anger and uncertainty of direction, and warned that the man had already begun to develop a martyr complex He also pointed out that Cole was, according to his records, almost as reckless as his father in combat. While his PRIDE rating was a solid 3.0, Jiong felt Cole needed either a grounding in actual leadership or someone to shake the ghost of his father out of his head.

He spoke of Dallas's lassitude and lack of drive, his womanizing, dishonesty and likelihood to evade danger. He spoke of the man's ability to multitask and see patterns and loopholes, but suggested the man's removal from the _Solguard _made him doubt his own worth and give up on any ambitions he once had. His low 2.3 PRIDE rating reflected his lack of true belief in the SA and his semi-legal actions in the past.

He touched on the near mania and manipulative tendencies of Jerred Colms, his childhood trauma and his fixation on weapons. In Jiong's opinion, the man was dangerous. He was far too intellectual and analytical to get a good read on, and Jiong had given the man a provisional 2.5 PRIDE rating, simply because anyone that arrogant and convinced of their own innate superiority had not a single self-sacrificial impulse, even if for the greater good of the SA.

He spoke of Tali's isolated loneliness, talked about her nervous and touchy pride, which he suspected was the manifestation of an inferiority complex, and finished by going over her confusion regarding Joker. He feared she saw him in an idolized light, as someone to remove her from her own issues. Her attraction, he felt, held less sense of a sexual interest and more like some kind of romantic, deranged Pilgrimage gift to justify her own lack of self-worth. He hesitated to give her a low PRIDE score since just being non-human dinged it, but he couldn't justify rating her higher than 2.2, which meant she would come under Commissariat review if there was even a single discipline problem.

Shepard listened, holding her temples and occasionally interjecting her thoughts. Halfway through the process, the ship jolted heavily, before she felt the subtle kick of the mass generators creating artificial gravity. Pressly called out for the crew to secure for transit on the 1MC, giving her a moment to collect her thoughts as Jiong fell silent.

That Cole was troubled didn't surprise her. Given Greg Cole's behavior as nearly the perfect NCO, she could only imagine what the man, however good he was as a master chief, had inflicted on his son. Tyrone was going to try and prove himself, if not to her then to the ghost of his dead father, and she knew better than anyone that you couldn't impress the dead. Maybe Vega could talk to him, or the surprisingly philosophical Montoya.

Colms interest in weapons was a bit interesting, but everything else about the man made her dislike him. She didn't know what to make of his decision to react to the trauma in his life by planning to be the next Jason Hadne-Kadar, but that didn't' really matter. As long as he did his job she could care less, although if he tried to manipulate her he was in for the most painful surprise of his life. She worked on weapons to get her mind off the demons in her past, and she made them to protect, not merely to destroy. Colms may have had the same intent, but listening to Jiong describe the man's icy fixation only made her skin crawl.

Dallas's laziness just made her sigh. The man's cavalier attitude towards women pissed her off, but not as much as her attitude towards the women going along with it. The fact that he was capable of pulling together hard-to-get equipment out of the SA supply system – or from beyond it – didn't give him a free pass to goof off. Given that she was going to be using the man's skills to ensure she had privacy with Liara, she wasn't going to crack down on Dallas' womanizing, but that was all the slack she was willing to give. She was going to watch him like a hawk, and if he endangered her crew with his bullshit, he was going through a bulkhead face first.

And if he was fool enough to make a pass at her, she was going to beat him until he looked like a hanar.

Jiong's breakdown of Tali evoked mixed feelings. Shepard had dragged the girl into this whole mess to begin with – first by bringing her along with her recordings, then taking her on the Normandy, then making her part of her strike team, and finally convincing her to join the SA and her crew. It was all well and good for Jiong to complain she didn't have the SA's interests first, no shit. She couldn't really worry too much about that. But the idea that Tali was lonely and clinging to Jeff and doubting herself made her upset and angry at herself. And she knew that it wasn't Tali's fault this had all happened, but hers.

She closed her eyes, remembering the angry words of Tali's father when he'd been told of Tali joining the SA. "I cannot force my daughter to take a different path, Shepard. But if she dies under your command, I will kill you, I swear on the homeworld itself, no matter what the cost."

She'd been amused at the threat at the time, thinking it a father's love. Now she wondered if maybe she would have been better off letting Tali go back to the fleet. The girl was suffering and putting up quite the act to not show it. Tali had wanted to talk, about Jeff – when that happened, Shepard would see how accurate Jiong's analysis was.

When he got to Liara, Shepard grit her teeth. "Jiong , I'm pretty sure I know Liara better than you do. I don't give a goddamned shit what your fucking PRIDE ratings say, she isn't going to double cross me."

Jiong sighed. "Shepard, I'm sure you know what is in her thoughts more fully. I'm certain you know her history and life better than anyone. And I agree, actually – her loyalty to you is absolute. But that is only one perspective of her task aboard the Kazan. It isn't an outside analysis of her weaknesses or liabilities. And if you are seriously telling me you can be dispassionate and professional where she is concerned I will eat my hat. I wouldn't be in your shoes. I'd relieve myself of command."

Shepard frowned. "Then why did you go along with my idea? The marrying thing. Letting her join the crew. Fraternization is forbidden for just that reason. Actually, why the fuck haven't you put up more of a fight about her being asari? About what I'm doing?"

Jiong rolled his eyes. "Because she is the core of why you have changed yourself as a person. Our observers reported that much. You aren't the kind of person who will endanger others to protect Liara. You will only fight harder if she is in danger. I truly pity anyone foolish enough to harm her, as I've heard stories about what occurred on Edolus. And you need her, Shepard. I'm not blind. I am a firm believer in rules and regulations, but the Fifth Consideration of the Commissariat Code says very clearly to remember that humans make rules, rules don't make humans. There are things I am willing to overlook when they are .. necessary."

He paused. "I will admit there are elements of the Commissariat who looked very dimly on your liaison with her. And there will be elements of the SA command and the public that, once you get married, will complain loudly and cause trouble. My fellow Commissar, Susan, agreed with me that pressing the issue with you was the single fastest way to weaken your already damaged faith in the SA, Shepard. It doesn't matter if I think it's appropriate." He glanced away, frowning.

Shepard watched him curiously as his jaw clenched. "Alfred, just say ...whatever it is."

He exhaled. "Please understand. I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to ride your coat-tails to glory. And I wasn't lying when I said you could do a great deal of good for the SA. But I will admit the main reason I suspect the SA and the Commissariat has not stopped your liaison with Lady Liara is that it makes you extremely vulnerable. A violent BDSM-submissive relationship and dangerously deep bond with an asari barely more than a teenager who is the daughter of a galactic criminal? She's your weakness, Shepard, and all anyone has to do to wreck you is kill her. Whoever did so wouldn't survive your retribution, but after that you would … broken."

Jiong's eyes closed. "As to Lady Liara herself, she has, like many asari citizens, transferred her loyalties from the Asari Republic – which given their acts were already weak – to the Systems Alliance. In a strict sense of her political reliability I would say she's a solid 3.5. However, this is only the case as long as _you_ are also loyal to the SA. She will perform well at being a good soldier or being a good science officer only because she sees it at required to make sure you are doing well. If she has your faith and support, she will be unbreakable. She would rather die than betray you."

Shepard winced but nodded. "And?"

Jiong sighed. "Psychologically, she's a mess. She is _very _young for an asari, barely the equivalent of a twenty year old, and bonding at that age makes mental stability much harder to maintain. Given the shocks to her mind over the past year, the fact that she is fragile should not surprise you. The most obvious problem is that her attachment to you is all that is giving her any stability in her life. You lead a very dangerous lifestyle, and if you die she is not going to survive, Shepard. That makes her a liability."

Shepard snarled. "She's stronger than you think, Jiong. She's had enough people try to tear her down without you joining them."

The man folded his arms, even his glacial patience at last snapping. "Christ! Do you think I am insulting her? I am saying she is _hurt_! She had to watch her own mother try to kill her. She had to bury her and then find out she was still alive and responsible for the deaths of millions of innocents! She had her entire people turn their back on her and send her off to die. She had to fight her mother again, this time watching her father nearly bleed to death in front of her and her lover get the shit beaten out of her. And then she had to kill her to save you."

Jiong narrowed his eyes. "If that wasn't enough she had to watch Benezia get up and then come to herself again, and know at the last her mother was herself again before being forced to watch her immolate herself in the most painful way an asari can die. She has a lot of pain, and the only thing she has keeping her sane – or more to the point, from just giving in to despair and misery – is you. Don't tell me that's healthy, or the proper mindset for any officer."

Shepard glared at him, her voice a whisper. "I already know that. I feel it all the time. I try to be there to help her with it, but what the fuck do I do? I can barely figure out how to get past my own shit!" She slammed her fist on the surface of the desk, before covering her eyes with her other hand.

Jiong's features softened, and he grimaced in self-loathing for a long second before he forced himself to continue. "If I was more of a man and less of a puppet, I would have had the guts to stop this when it was just a night of release. But you are bonded, and interfering with that would … make you unfit for duty or command. My conditioning won't let me destroy an asset of the SA like that."

He exhaled, glancing down at his hands. "I told you when we first met that I don't expect you to trust me, but I do need you to listen to me and take my advice in consideration when it comes to keeping you out of trouble. I didn't … don't … wish to alienate you. But I would rather you hate me and know the truth about what you face than like me and fall victim to consequences you haven't considered."

Shepard exhaled as well, clenching her fists. "So what am I supposed to do?"

Jiong folded his hands together. "I have given some thought to that. I would like Commissar D'Alte to work with Lady Liara in discussing her issues. Like me, she is trained heavily in psychology, and her xenospeciality is asari. She needs to take a good look at herself, and her own place in events. She is not simply an archeologist following in your wake any longer, and the situation you are in flies against regulations and hundreds of years of tradition in avoiding fraternization. Susan … will be able to give her guidance she needs." He paused. "You can trust her. I give you my word on that. She will not hurt Liara."

He exhaled. "I would also suggest you work with me to discuss your own issues. Your political officer is the only person you can be sure is not out to screw you over, and you have very few people you can confide in. Anderson has never been in this situation, nor has Von Grath, and neither of them are here."

He glanced at his padd. "Second, I would recommend you take into account the vulnerabilities and weakness we have discussed. Mr. Colms should be kept busy and made to understand that his grandiose ideas are secondary to his job as Weapons Officer. Mr. Dallas should be firmly put in his place and encouraged to find whatever spine and drive he has again. Mr. Cole should be trained and pushed to excel with the understanding that if he dies he will hurt his unit. Ms. Zorah and Mr. Moreau need to have a mutual discussion with you about if she really wants to be here or is forcing herself to be here."

Shepard nodded. "You forgot one person."

Jiong arched his eyebrow. "Who?"

She pointed her finger at him. "You."

For several seconds he was quiet, before taking off his hat. "Touche."

He glanced down, before slowly unwinding the sash around his waist and laying it on the table. "What I say is as … a man, or as much of a man remains within this flesh, Shepard. It is something that is private, and I would ask you not repeat it, excepting the fact that you can not hide such from Lady Liara."

He looked up. For a moment the iron hardness of his face was gone, leaving him just a handsome, intelligent man, sadness and frustration on his features. "No Commissar is truly loyal to the SA. We are taken as children, orphans from broken homes or victims of child abuse. In my case, my father beat my mother to death and sodomized myself and my younger brother, while my elder brother sold him out to the bounty services for cash, leaving us adrift. The SA took us in, and I haven't seen my younger sibling since."

He glanced away. "We are conditioned with drugs, with brainwashing, with surgery, with cyberware. You cannot have loyalty to something you are forced into obeying. A part of me that I try not to think about hates the SA. Hates humanity for needing something like Commissars in the first place. I hate criminality because it keeps me trapped in this half-life."

He looked back at her. "Commissars are absolutely reliable because we can't betray. We can't give anything less than one hundred percent. All of my previous assignments have been in situations where I was expected to support a senior officer. Know them. Plan with them. Become their friend. Meet their wives, smile at their children. Laugh with them." He looked away again. "And kill them if they betrayed their oaths. Do you know what it's like to smash in the skull of a man you called your friend and not be able to stop?"

Shepard closed her eyes. "Sadly, Alfred, yes, I do."

He only nodded. "Ah, Torfan. Then maybe you can understand my .. frustration. There are Commissars who desperately wish the situation was different. Who wish there was more focus on making people understand and less on punishment. But at the same time parts of my mind force me to see the criminal as worthless, fit only for execution or hard labor. How do I know which opinions are mine and which are merely that of the Commissariat?"

Shepard opened her eyes and looked at him. "You're not making me like my government any more with this conversation, you know."

Jiong shrugged. "You wanted to know my own assessment? I'm trapped, Shepard, in a job I have loathed for some time, in a mind that does not completely answer to my will. How would you deal with life if you were in love with someone, and you couldn't even say that to them or they to you because of blocks in your behavior? If you had to work with this person for years, wishing things were different? Commissars are not allowed romantic liaisons with other Commissars. That rule is absolute."

He looked at her, his face tense with emotion. "How would you feel if you had to watch Liara seduce another man for the sake of duty, when you could never kiss her? How would you feel to have to execute misguided men, women, and children, because your mind was not your own? I pitied Lady Benezia when she came free of her indoctrination for those few moments before the end. I know _exactly _what it feels like."

"Loyalty is a concept that is won by admiration, by sacrifice, by mutual understanding. _Every _Commissar has a 1.0 PRIDE rating, because we are not given the choice to serve."

He exhaled, leaning back. "And there it is, my assessment. I am a slave to the wishes of the SA. I am unable to change that right now. I would like to believe that I am, if not a friend, at least making the effort to try to be one. You accepted me and my assistance when almost everyone in your life you trusted had betrayed you at one time or another. The only way I can honor that trust in me is in letting you know that if the time comes when I must turn against you, I will not be able to stop myself, but I don't want to."

Shepard nodded slowly, and he continued. "I would like nothing more than to encourage you and Liara. I think you are good for each other. It makes me happy to see you laughing and being able to look forward to life rather than chasing death. But I am forced to tell you the truth, even if that makes you hate me for my words."

Shepard met his gaze and sighed. "I don't hate you. I didn't know you guys were that … locked down, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. The SA has given me a lot of disappointment in the past few months, and … I'd lost track of some of that with all of .. this." She waved a hand at the room.

Jiong nodded. "Which was no doubt at least partially intentional. I do not speak of my own situation to incite pity, nor can I honestly say that you should hate the SA for what they have done to me. If they had not taken action, I would have died on the streets or ended up a child slave. If there is a liability in my service aside from my conditioning it is that I measure and distrust all around me. I can't even have a relationship with a woman unless it's a mission, and that is only lies."

He smiled, and retied the sash around his waist. "If I have loyalty, it is to and will be only to you. When I am advanced in rank high enough to have my conditioning removed and be free, it will be due to you dragging me along in your own career. It is not mere ambition that drives me. It is hope of a better day, Shepard." He finished the knot, and looked up. "We are all bound by our past and our burdens. But I have to believe there will be a day when what I have sacrificed pays off."

She nodded. "What will you do when that day comes?"

Jiong got a distant look in his eye. "I will be able to say what I have felt since I was a very young man. If I have nothing else, to be able to say the words to her once before I die is all I ask."

She nodded slowly. "... for what it's worth, I'm sorry you have to … live through that. Like that." She sighed. "And I guess I should cut you some slack. The only way you have to get out of that mess is to have me become important enough that they promote you, yet you have to tell me crap about Tali and Liara you know will piss me off. Hard situation."

Jiong shrugged. "I trust your ability to face hard truths, Shepard. You have done so your entire life."

She snorted. "No, I haven't. Liara had a conversation with my old squad-mate, Jason Dunn...she shared with me in our bond. He said I had all the closure there was to have but I kept clinging to my past and pain because I was scared of failing and fucking things up worse, so I pushed everyone away. That's not facing truth, it's hiding from it." She set her jaw. "But I can't afford to push people away now, whether I understand it or not."

She glanced at the padd, at the coldly worded descriptions of her crew. "I'll … talk with each of them. Let them know … where I stand on some things. I won't ignore this."

Jiong nodded. "That is all I can ask." He glanced at the status repeater on her wall. "It looks as if we're about fifteen minutes out from the relay. I should give you some time to prepare for the jump." He stood, placing his cap back on his head, and turned to leave.

He paused at the door. "Shepard."

She exhaled and looked up. "Yes?"

His face shifted, and then he firmed his jaw. "If there is one piece of advice I can give you, it is this. You say you can't help Lady Liara, that you are unable to help yourself. Yet you have helped her. You have helped many. If there is one thing in your profile that continues to limit your performance, is it your misunderstanding of pain."

She shook her head. "I would think I understand pain better than most. It lets you know you aren't dead."

Jiong's voice was soft, and held more emotion in it than she could ever remember. "Pain, Shepard, is anything you wish you could change, but can't. For a long time that was your whole life, I suppose. But you are no longer a troubled criminal, flung from battle to battle. There are others who depend on you. Others that require your leadership, your strength, and, yes, in Lady Liara's case, your ability to rebuild yourself and love, as trite as that may sound."

He met her gaze directly. "If you refuse to let go of the things that haunt you, you will be in danger of failing them all. Major-Commander Sara Shepard, Baroness and Spectre, is not the same person as Sara Shepard, sex-slave , criminal and Penal Legion soldier. That woman is dead. You are alive."

He exited the stateroom, leaving her lost in thought for long minutes. She stared at her hands, letting the words pour through her mind.

_Poor Jiong. There's a guy even more fucked up than I am. _

She couldn't even imagine a life like his, forced to uphold that which he might not even believe in. A part of her wished he'd never told her.

And yet, he didn't let that hold him or stop him. He had a goal and he was working towards it, regardless of the pain, and the suffering, and his own ugly past that sounded damn near as bad as hers.

_Pain is anything you wish you could change but can't._

She let that thought roll around in her head a bit, and considered his words, rising from the chair and walking back across the corridor to enter her quarters. The pictures flickered up on her desk as she came in.

Voices from her past drifted across her memory.

Von Grath, bloodied after Horizon, grinning wryly and sitting in the wreckage of his command cruiser. _Shepard, eh? Well, don't just stand there, girl, help me up. Shattered leg and all that, I can't be seen laying about. I say, if you can take out a Glorious batarian in a fist fight, you are definitely wasted in the ranks. I'll have to steal you from Rachel. _

Anderson, his bulk blocking the overhead lights, visiting her in the hospital after Torfan. _No, Sara. I don't give a damn what the brass says, or your teammates, or anyone else. This is not your fault. This is on the Systems Alliance. It's on General Tyrson, and the Fleet Master just shot him. The only thing you failed at is being a machine instead of a human being. And that isn't a failure. It's just life. _

Rachel Florez, blood spattered and calm, standing over the corpses of her parents. _There is no such thing as 'moving on', Shepard. These people weren't parents, they were shit. Parents don't sell their children. Parents don't ignore them. You can't hang on to something you never had, so stop fucking trying. You're mine now. Not theirs. Never theirs._

Helen Chakwas, her eyes intense, in the medical bay of the Normandy. _A monster would not put themselves in harms way, again and again, every time they had to sacrifice soldiers, as if hoping to die alongside the men and women you had to let die to get the job done. I'm not as hard as you. I don't think I could do what you did. That doesn't mean it makes you evil._

She walked across the room and sat down on the narrow bed, picking up the soft folds of her Penal Legion blanket. Feeling the rough battered wool that had seen so many bunks, lockers and battlefields.

Greg Cole, his face framed in smoke, bandaged and battered from Eden Prime. _I just decided to stop holding myself in the past over bullshit I couldn't change. Got married. Had two good boys. Decided the only thing I could do to get past it all was to leave something behind I could feel clean about. _

Liara, naked and beautiful, bruised and bleeding, eyes lined with hope and tears. _I am your strength, and you are mine. I am your light when yours goes dark, and you are my bravery when my courage fails. I am yours, if you will have me. _

Her hands tightened around the blanket.

Liara, sitting at the piano in Anderson's apartment, elegant fingers drifting along the keys. _I learned there that sometimes what we hold most valuable to us is not what others expect of us, or even what we think we want. It is those things that cry out to our souls when we are still and quiet. A reminder that we are but sparks from the fire, flickering for a few moments of brightness before the dark. That we cannot hold onto everything we cherish unless we take time to actually cherish it._

Anderson holding her as she cried onto his chest. _I don't want to hear you ever wondering what will happen when you mess up, or what will happen when shit goes bad. I want to hear you tell me what you're going to do when you triumph. I want to see you live, child. I want to see you burn away all the chains people have thrown on you and see that smirk again, see that fire in your eyes._

She sat there, and then firmed her jaw.

"Hey you." She smiled almost affectionately at the blanket. "Been here since the start, I guess. Every fight. Every base." She rubbed the blood stain in one corner, the one staining the Alliance 'A'.

"For a long time I saw you as a reminder of how far I'd come. But I guess you're more of a reminder of how far I could fall. Of what happens if I fuck up again, or I'm not good enough."

She looked up, seeing the picture of Liara, and smiled. "I have to move beyond that now. Not for me. For … the people who need me."

She brought the rough cloth to her lips and kissed it, before standing. "VI. Suppress fire alarms, commander's cabin, my authorization."

She walked over to the omnifactory unit, opening the top with a button press, and kicked off the power cycle that would usually heat omnigel to cook it into shape. The circular opening at the top flared white hot, a puff of warm air shifting strands her hair from her face. It was fitting that a furnace of creation should destroy the last link she had to her ugly, blood-drenched past.

An image of the Penal Legion barracks, flaking white paint and the smell of blood and sweat. _You are all dead. From this day until you eat a bullet, you live only by the grace of the Systems Alliance._

"Not any more." She let the blanket fall, watching as the dry wool ignited almost instantly, burning with a bright, fierce light that cast flickering shadows behind her. With a flick of her wrist she tossed the rest of it in, staring as the flames ate it away completely, the last corner to go that bloodstained, frayed 'A'.

There wasn't much smoke, and she walked over to the corner of her room and turned on the venting to dissipate it, pulling out a cigarette as she did so. Lighting it calmly, she sat down on one of the chairs, staring at the deck.

Jiong's last words echoed in her head. _That woman is dead. You are alive._


	4. Chapter 4 : Moving On and Along

**A/N**: _Alright, last chapter of fluff. Next chapter is a war meeting and some action after the shakedown stuff._

_More than once during OSABC, people PM'd or questioned how many times Shepard danced back and forth between opening up to Liara and getting over her own problems. Fear of opening up to someone, of saying confusing and deeply held emotions, is not something cavalierly overcome by those whose whole lives have been patchworks of misery and suffering. Tali and Joker's little relationship isn't something that can move forward under it's own power. Shepard is merely helping out._

_Commissar Susan is another facet of the Commissariat. There are those like Colonel Dravus, cold and true fanatics, people who never had any faith in humanity save in it's incompetence, greed, and hate. Men like Dravus don't care about costs, and see only the biggest picture. If heads get broken, well, that's the price of progress.. There are those like Jiong – troubled, miserable, and tired, but determined to do their best to make the acts the Commissariat commits happen for a reason. If heads get broken, it's regrettable, but that is the nature of life._

_Susan is a third view. Yes, it's a hard view, but sometimes you can't give into misery, or lose sight of the fact that fell acts are required in a fell universe. Susan has no guilt and keeps her hope not out of blind faith or stoic endurance, but simple belief in tomorrow. At the same time, she's less willing to seal off her emotions and care, unless and until a person turns into a target._

* * *

><p>"<em>If I had a credit for every time the personnel briefing on who I was assigned to work with was accurate… I might have one credit."<em>

– _Saren Arterius , 'Dying for the Cause'_

* * *

><p>O-ATTWN-O<p>

The trip to Watson was fairly short, lasting roughly a day. Shepard had spent the tattered remains of her night alone in her cabin, thinking very hard about how she could solve the problems Jiong had thrown on the table. Her team on the Normandy had issues she'd never addressed, and she had to wonder how much more effective they might have been if she'd picked up on them. But rather than waste time reviewing the past, she focused on the here and now. If President Windsor was right, she couldn't' afford weaknesses in her team.

And even if he wasn't, Liara deserved a better wife than some bitter old soldier never brave enough to turn her back on yesterday. With that thought she'd drifted off to sleep in her cabin. Liara wouldn't show up tonight, for fear of kicking off rumors, and Shepard found her sleep restless and cold.

She'd awoken in a somewhat foul mood, but a shower and a fresh uniform had at least settled her nerves enough to focus. She had three things she wanted to knock out – talk with the Supply Officer about her cabin and soundproofing it, talk to Tali and Joker about the mess they were in, and sit down with Cole, Vega, and the NCO's and review her marines. By the time that was all done, they should be at Watson.

Shepard spent most of her time in the morning touring the ship while organizing her thoughts. She made a show of learning the spaces of the Kazan and seeing the people under her command, although really she was looking for her Supply Officer to check on the status of her 'special order'.

Rather than have the VI hunt the man down, she decided to wander, seeing what she could see. Keep the crew on their feet. Sitting in the CIC watching stars drift by was boring, and Liara had vanished into the science labs hours ago. She could feel a bubbly sense of enjoyment from her bondmate, and decided if Liara was having fun, it was best to let her be.

Watching her nerd out with other nerds would just be too boring to deal with.

The mess decks were spacious, enough to seat a third of the crew at any time, with haptic displays for entertainment or ship status flashes lining the low ceiling. The tables were the same low-slung plastic sets on the Normandy, but the chairs were padded instead of bare metal, and the actually addition of a kitchen with three mess cooks meant an end to MRE's, dried rations, and the dreaded C-rats.

The lead cook, an amiable, grizzled black sergeant by the name of John Carter, quizzed her briefly on her food preferences while she ate a quick breakfast, and reassured her that the coffee was not crap. "That slick-ass supply officer got us three pallets of Vegan Golden Brown, and a couple of cans of actual Columbian from Earth. We still got the navy ration in the storage bays if we run out, though. Wouldn't stand to think on what we'd do with no coffee, ma'am."

She'd laughed and after finishing her meal, tried the coffee. It, as promised, was very good, and she took a cup with her as she continued on. The living areas were split between rows of hibernation coffins for the most junior rates, and small six man bunk-rooms for junior NCO's and senior techs. As usual, the rooms were split between sexes. Everything was neatly stowed and if she saw a few racy pictures on some of the lockers in the all-male bunk-rooms, she wasn't going to raise a fuss.

When she saw a pinup of what had to be a digitally edited image of herself in a very unlikely posture and a distinct lack of clothing, however, she called over the deck division NCO, a bearded chief named McAllister. "Chief, I am not going to rip someone a new asshole over that picture as long as it is gone and the person who put it up reminded of what isn't acceptable aboard a Systems Alliance ship by the next time I make my rounds."

The chief had face-palmed upon seeing the thing, tearing it off the locker with a flush of embarrassment. "I'm very sorry about this ma'am. Laskins, most probably. I needed a volunteer to clean the hangar bay with a toothbrush and now I have one. Won't happen again, ma'am."

She smiled and nodded. "Good. I don't care the if the boys have their porn, but there's a goddamned line, Chief. That also goes for the two asari we have on board – I do not want to hear any stories of them fucking their way through the crew OR being harassed."

He coughed. "Yes'm. I, uh, I'll have a word with Master Chief Ginsburg about it."

She smiled again. "Good. Quarters look sharp, Chief. Keep up the good work and let the crew know I'm pleased."

The exercise area had a couple of marines doing cardio, along with a disgustingly in shape Emilo Vega pumping iron. She'd waved and kept going, the chances of finding Dallas in the gym was about zero, after all.

She'd finally located him in the Lounge. The ship's lounge had more than a few sailors relaxing after watch in it, who stiffened to attention when she entered. "Knock that shit off. You're relaxing, so relax." She smiled at the grins that broke out, and stepped past to the far end of the lounge, towards where Supply Officer Dallas was leaning back in a chair.

She cleared her throat and he glanced away from a padd in his hand to meet her eyes. "Did you need something, ma'am?"

She nodded. "While we're on the way to Watson, I need to review a few things with you. Your office is on this deck, correct?"

He tucked his padd away and nodded, turning to a rather overdeveloped blond sitting next to him. "Shera, make sure we get those replacements filed in the system before midwatch. I will be in Sups if you need me."

He got to his feet, brushing back his hair and inclined his head. "Please follow me, ma'am."

The walk to his office was short, and the office itself smallish, mostly taken up by a large set of sliding haptic screens on a rack system. He gestured to one of the simple chairs in one corner while seating himself behind his own narrow desk. "Keeping track of the parts and supply chains for a heavy cruiser is something I've never done before, Major. I'm still sort of playing catch up on more than a few aspects."

She waved a hand as she sat. "That's fine. I want to make a few things clear. Jiong has no doubt already spoken to you."

He flinched. "Ah...yes he did, Major. Very clearly."

She leaned forward. "Good. I like clear. I like blunt even better, because I'm not much for fancy language and hidden meanings. You're not a stupid man so I shouldn't have to explain myself more than once. You will provide me the best logistics service you can. You will push yourself to master this system, to ensure my marines are not in danger, and to equip them in a manner from which they don't get shot to fucking pieces because the SA is blowing money on haptic art, fucking bubble fountains, or a goddamned old folks home instead of on the military."

She leaned back."I don't give a shit about what you've gone through, Dallas. I have no time for pity, for myself or anyone else. As long as you give me what I need when I need it, I could care less if the silly tramps in your department suck your dick until it falls off. But the first time you fuck up, or don't meet my requirements, you will be in a world of shit. And if you in any way endanger my ship, my mission, my marines, or God fucking help you, my officers? I will remind you why they call me the Butcher."

She folded her arms. "I trust we are very fucking clear?"

He gave a very shaky exhalation, eyes wide. "Y-yes ma'am. Very very clear."

She smiled brightly. "Good! Now I won't have to figure out how to kill you." She paused. "I wouldn't have to do this kind of thing if you'd get off your ass, Dallas. You've had a free ride for a long time, and I have a low tolerance for people who don't push themselves."

He looked at her a long moment before shrugging. "With all due respect... I'm not you, ma'am. There was a time I pushed myself, ma'am. Didn't get shit for it. It's one thing to tell me 'don't fuck up'. I get that. That's fair enough. But you and I both know my career isn't going anywhere. I want to get through the last three years of my deployment without being shot to shit fighting geth or whatever, and without being blown up, eaten by worms, killed by batarians or worse."

He fiddled with the loose datapad on his desk, not meeting her gaze. "Glory isn't what it's cracked up to be."

She sighed. "Perhaps not, Lieutenant. I think I can say I know that a lot better than you do." She softened her tone. "But I need a lot of support to get things done. There's crap coming ahead that the SA, that the Citadel races, aren't ready for. A big war."

He frowned. "Against the geth?"

She didn't answer that, merely continuing. "Regardless of the enemy, the whole reason I was kicked upstairs so hard is to prepare. That's why you were chosen. There's things the SA won't sign off on that I need to get the job done. If I'd gone up against Saren with stock weapons and armor, he'd have shot us dead in ten seconds flat."

He nodded. "I've done a lot of … um, off the books upgrading of our boys in the field, ma'am. I won't argue with it, but it's not something I can do without cash."

She nodded. "I've already got that handled. When the time comes, you'll get what you need." She frowned. "The main reason I'm here, besides reminding you of your job, is to inquire about the other equipment I need and had Jiong inform you off."

He nodded. "The Commissar did let me know what you requested. It wasn't easy to get, but I did it. I'm guessing you want a private medical suite in your quarters and security against bugs or spy beams?"

She almost said something then stopped. She'd never even considered someone might bug her quarters. That was both something she should have thought of and a good way to not have to explain that she wanted the equipment because her sexual escapades with Liara ended up with a bit too much blood sometimes.

"Let's just say that the crew doesn't need to see me shot to pieces. It's bad for morale, and I got torn up a lot when I fight. I saw the effect it had on the crew of the Normandy to watch me near death. As for bugs, yes. I have a … problem with talking in my sleep, and I am now handling a lot of sensitive information."

Dallas nodded, pulling open his desk. "Kinetic sound barriers are a good idea, but I went ahead and had the dockwrights inject the walls of your cabin and stateroom with sound-suppressive, lead laced foam as well." He pulled something out of the drawer and set it on the desk. "I have five very illegal sound suppressors that also double as wide-band ECM / signals jammers. The only sound egress would be that venting system they put in your quarters,and that vents to the outer hull where no one can hear anyway. Stick them in each corner of the room and one on the ceiling near the center."

He leaned back in the chair as she pocketed them. "The medical systems are easy, just double ordered spares for the medbay. You can install them in a cabinet, or pull out one of the wall segments and stick them in there. They're powered either by fuel cell or a direct wire connection. Someone from engineering could hook them up in an hour or so, they're stashed in the forward supply room with your name on them." He tapped his omni, her own blipping a message about manuals. "Simple to operate. Simple tissue and bone regenerators and a medpatch extruder. Keep it filled with medigel and lay the brace or the mat over the injured area."

She smiled. "Good work. And the bot?"

He exhaled. "A medical bot with VI controls is harder to locate. The only ones available on the open market are usually asari or salarian models, which is going to raise eyebrows even if I'm careful. They are not cheap, and tech-gangs tend to buy them to assist with certain … illegal modifications to slaves."

She folded her arms, eyes hardening. She remembered that all too well. "How cheap is 'not cheap?'

He shrugged. "For basic diagnosis? A good half a million credits. Trauma options cost more, anything specific to humans even more. Most are calibrated for salarians or asari."

She sighed. With Chakwas not available, having anyone else patch her and Liara up would raise far more questions than a medical bot would. Half a million credits would knock out the entire set of back pay she'd gotten from the SA, however. "I need one with human and asari options. I couldn't get a doctor with asari medical experience, and Lieutenant Commander T'Soni has been injured severely in the past, so having that option would be helpful." She paused. "Quarian would help too, for Tali, but that's not much use without a clean room."

Dallas scratched his head. "Ma'am..not to pry or sound paranoid...but it sounds more like you don't trust the doctors that we'll be assigned to take care of you or the, ah, alien crew members you brought with you."

Shepard gave a thin smile. Jiong was right, the man was sharp, just looking the wrong direction.

_Then again, who would expect you of all people to be shopping for medical gear to cover up what you do in the bedroom?_

She coughed. "I don't know you well enough to go into all the reasons...but you are very close to correct, Lieutenant. Let's just say I have enemies and I'd rather not let them take me or my friends out. There's a lot of people who are still bigots..."

He rolled his eyes and muttered. "Clearly they haven't hooked up with asari girls yet."

She managed to suppress a grin at that, but he was still lost in thought. After a moment he brought up a haptic screen from his desk and began tapping at it. "I might not be able to do this clean, but there's every possibility I could snap up some Sirta equipment that's fallen through the cracks. Noveria's a fire sale even now. I could probably even have it .. "

He broke off to tap at his screen again, frowning. "There's a shipment of Alliance wreckage – busted tanks and some armor units – being shipped to Arcturus for refit/scrap estimates. I think I can finagle a bot like the one you need onto the manifest and then use this nifty code Jiong gave me to lock it in cargo transit once it arrives, but you'll need to send someone to the warehouse to pick it up."

She gave him a smile. "You are good at this, aren't you? I don't even want to _know_ why you'd know about a shipment incoming from Noveria. Just do it. How much?"

He leaned back and grinned rakishly. "That's the wonderful part, Major, about being good at this. Since Sirta got it's face kicked in by the investigation of their connection to Cerberus by the NDC, they're not exactly up on database security any longer. Give me a day or two and I'm certain I can transfer a medbot into the holding facility with the scrap for a nominal payment to a local. Probably a few thousand creds, let's call it ten thousand."

She tapped her omnitool and forwarded that much to the ship's account, earmarking it "Training Supplies" before nodding. "I've moved that much to the ship's fund. Training supplies. What about the weapons and armor I mentioned? I'm not ready to give you the cash for them, but what kind of options are we looking at, and how feasible is it?"

He grunted. "I'm still working on that. Slipping over ninety suits of armor and an armory full of guns isn't as simple as playing with manifests. I have to run this past … well, people that don't like lots of attention and prefer payment in cash. The small arms will be the easiest. Lance cannons and anything on the Level III restricted weapons list will be the hardest."

She nodded. "You have about a month, Lieutenant. Maybe a bit more, depending on how long I'm stuck on Pinnacle Station. I am afraid that after we ship from there things are likely to get very lively."

He sighed. "Yes, ma'am. I'll get on it."

O-ATTWN-O

While Shepard was conversing with Dallas, Liara was sitting in the ship's science and signals lab, smiling gently as she reviewed test data from the sensor suite of the Kazan, listening to one of her techs finish a story about his first trip to an extrasolar stellar body.

Her team was composed of three enlisted men – all rather young human males – and two more senior techs, both female humans. They all had a differing scientific specialty, each one working with the others to cover all of the Kazan's various science requirements and sensor needs.

Jason Morris was into astrophysics, and responsible for probes and systems scanning. Chris Johnson was focused on particle analysis, and along with Deidre Scott spent most of his time on sensor interpretation in the local area. Vincent Maedel was FTL emissions, and paired with Lisa Graham on long-range sensors and blueshift tracing.

That left Liara to pick up the areas they didn't have personnel for, mostly ground topography, geological analysis and meteorology, for those times where troops would need to land on a planet. She'd spent much the morning going over the sensor suites and displays on the bridge.

It was a large amount of information to process at once, but Liara found herself upbeat. She was once again focusing on science and deduction, analysis and hard fact. Not scrambling about in battle, dealing with family politics, or facing emotional trauma. It was cathartic and relaxing, even with the challenge of so much new data to take in. And her team was easy to adjust to. Like her, they were scientists. The young men were a touch shy and the older females were almost motherly.

She relaxed, smiling as one sensor test finished flawlessly, and kicked off another, this one a sweep for particle traces.

The lab was not a large room – easily three times that of the Normandy's cramped space, but hardly expansive. As with most spaces on the ship, it was expressed in black floors, pale white walls, and overheads covered in pipes and wiring. Half the room was taken up by wall-height haptic displays that could be broken down by touch into zoom windows, extranet searches, or probe relay telemetry. Down the port and starboard walls of the lab were various workstations, each one slaved to sensors, analysis, or research. Racks of handheld scanners, portable lab equipment, and cabinets of chemicals finished out the contents of the room.

She'd never lead a team in the field before, and she'd been wracked with nervousness about being placed in charge of strange humans, but the men and women who answered to her were anything but difficult to work with. Her past science and archeological experience was, in their eyes, far more 'real' science than endlessly monitoring scanners, and she found herself smiling as they discussed their jobs and interests. Hearing them describe why they loved science and exploration made her remember her own love of research, of the thrill of finding a new Prothean ruin, of the wonder of learning from the relics of the past.

For the past hour she'd been engaged in a rambling, disorganized discussion with her science team about past explorations, while paying halfway attention to the boring sensor tests being automatically handled by the VI. Liara had just begun to describe her work on the first major dig site she'd been brought in on when the door chimed politely.

She glanced up as the slender, black-coated form of a Commissar filled the doorway. Liara took a long moment to recognize the woman as Susan, the Commissar who'd interrogated her in her hospital room on Noveria.

As then, the Commissar's bright , bubbly voice and shining main of ash-blond hair set off the grim lines of her greatcoat and the scarlet sash around her narrow waist."Good morning, sciencey types."

The pinched features of Vincent Madel loosened. "..sciency types? You can't really be a Commissar." He hissed as his teammate jabbed him with an elbow, a look of consternation on his face.

Susan laughed and flipped her hair out of the way. "We're not all gloom and doom, Mr. Madel. Unless we don't get our morning donuts or someone does something stupid like falsify test results to get a grant from the NARSC."

The young man paled, swallowing, and Susan smiled wider. "No worries. I am actually here to speak to Lady Liara."

Liara managed to keep her expression neutral. "A continuation of our discussion on Noveria, I presume?"

Susan made a shushing motion with her hands. "Oh no no no. I mean, you were... well. The thing with the biotics was _really_ scary. I'd rather not do that again. No, we – well, I – just need to talk about some protocol related stuff. Nothing big. You'll be back in here with the boffins in no time." She made a show of looking around, bright eyes taking in the equipment and arcane displays.

Liara sighed. She spoken briefly to Shepard about her meeting with Jiong, and had felt the wild swing of emotions Shepard had undergone during and after the meeting. It seemed it was her turn, now. Turning to her team, she put on a calm expression. "It appears our reminiscence period is over. I will return when I am able, please continue to run the sensor tests. It would help immensely if you could also make sure whatever documentation I need to review to stand watch is available."

Chief Diedre Scott nodded, her graying hair bobbing as she did so. "Yes, ma'am. We'll have it ready."

Liara stood, carefully laying down her datapad. "I am afraid the science officer of this ship does not have their own office...where should we have this conversation?"

Susan bowed, that perfect asari-form bow she'd used on Noveria. "Please follow me, Lady Liara."

The asari did so, letting herself be lead down the corridor to the elevator, and down to the deserted half-deck of level six. The rows of plants and trays of algae from hydroponics dripped as they stepped out, Susan leading her towards the far bulkhead. Racks of supplies cast long shadows in the dim light, the silence of the deck barely broken by the hum of the ship's engines.

Coming up to a stack of heavy crates labeled 'Rations, Survival', the Commissar triggered her omnitool. The wall paneling next to the crates smoothly split, revealing a small , rubber-floored corridor perhaps twenty feet long, with four doors along it's length. It ended in a circular room, a pair of energy-field containment cells visible along the back wall.

Liara glanced ahead and folded her arms behind her, subtly checking to make sure her neural brace was tight around her forearm. "I do not believe this space is shown on the ship's schematic."

Susan walked ahead of her, stopping to open one of the side doors and motioning her in. "Well, no, it isn't, but that's the Commissariat for you. Hidden tree-houses, decoder rings, secret handshakes. It's like the founders were stuck on old spy movies. Anyway, in you go. It's just my quarters, not a cell."

The room Liara entered into was a tiny, cramped cube. A narrow and hard bed with drab gray sheets was tucked against one wall, a short cabinet at the foot of it taking up that corner. Across from it was a small desk, a little shelf full of old-style paper manuals, an a small weapons rack containing several neural maces and what looked like a sniper rifle.

Liara's own rooms were three times as big. She frowned at the tiny space before glancing about, finally deciding to sit on the only chair. "This is somewhat cramped."

Susan sat on the bed, and pouted, an expression that very nearly made Liara laugh. "Sorry, Commissar's don't get much room. It's just me, Alfred, and the two lancers, so we don't rate much space, I suppose. And I'm so busy I usually just crash out."

Liara sat carefully, maintaining her poise. "What is this place – by that, I mean this entire hidden section – and why did you need to speak with me?"

Susan clasped her hands together. "This is our hidey-hole, Lady Liara. The Commissariat always has one on the bigger ships. Got a little brig, some equipment to handle people who have a problem with authority, and these tiny little bedrooms. Only one restroom and one shower,which means all the hot water is gone if I wait until last to get up."

She pulled a thermos out from the shelf built into the bed, unscrewing the cap and pouring out ice water into two small cups on the top of the cabinet. "It's just water, in case your throat gets dry again. Not that I couldn't use a real drink, but it's against regs. Just about everything is against regs, really. Kind of a drag."

She smiled, but Liara was hardly reassured even as she took a cup. "I cannot fail to note you did not answer my second question, Commissar Susan, as to why I am here."

The woman's smile faded a little. "You're here because of your PRIDE review. You recall the little question and answer session you did with Commissar Jiong on Arcturus after your skills evaluation?

Liara nodded. "I do. I fear he was not happy with my answers. I appreciate the Systems Alliance is important to humans, and now as a citizen it is also important that I support it. But I am … ambivalent about doing so unconditionally. My loyalty is to Sara..."

Susan nodded. "And no one, not even the Commissariat, can blame you for that, Lady Liara. I know from your point of view we probably dropped the ball quite a bit when it comes to Shepard, given her youth and past history. I'm sure that makes it hard for you to see the Alliance in a good light."

Liara sighed. "It is not only that, Commissar. If it is merely loyalty and duty we speak of, then the Systems Alliance at least respects Shepard's sacrifices, if belatedly. That alone is enough to earn my gratitude and respect. I would certainly put their interests above that of my own people at this point." Her voice became bitter. "It seems not even murdering my own mother or nearly dying at her hands is good enough for the Matriarchy or the clanless to hold me blameless."

Liara stared at her hands, laying in her lap. "If I do not hold the fascination many humans seem to for the concept of the Alliance...then at least believe me when I say Sara's duty to it binds me just as tightly."

Susan nodded. "Which is actually what Alfred got out of that conversation." Her expression turned grave, a downturn of the pert mouth that made her pixie-like face seem sorrowful. "But he also determined that you are very seriously hurt, ma'am. Psychologically and emotionally. That is a cause for worry."

Liara tightened her jaw, feeling heat rise to her crest in a mix of embarrassment and anger. "I am stable enough to perform my duties and present no danger to the goals of the Alliance."

Susan shook her head. "We know that." She seemed to struggle with some emotion before continuing, her voice laced with muted frustration. "Lady Liara, I can say with absolute candor that neither I nor Alfred think poorly of you. Your courage in dealing with what had to be a horrific situation with your mother, your ability to handle your isolation, and your bravery were all a part of the report."

She took a sip of the water. "Both he and I had to work very hard to get assigned this post, and while I won't say you were the main reason for it, you were definitely part of it. After being hounded, mistreated and sidelined by your own people and family, you don't deserve that here, and please believe me when I say I'm not here to interrogate you."

Liara folded her arms, her gaze severe. "As with our conversation on Noveria, Commissar, there is more not being said than is being said openly. If I accept your claim that you are not opposed to my being with Sara, then why the concern for my mental stability?"

She sighed. "I suppose that is a fair question. The Commissariat isn't known for it's compassion and playing nice, after all." Susan looked up at Liara blankly. "The hard truth is that Shepard is going to be placed under immense stress soon. Despite her showing a great deal of personal growth in the past few months, you are really all the support she has. It is no exaggeration to say that if something were to happen to you Shepard would fall apart. Possibly even commit suicide."

Liara shivered, but the commissar's lovely voice continued. "She's been hurt all her life. And in a lot of ways, so have you. And neither of you have anyone who is making sure the two of you are going to be okay."

Liara frowned. "My aithntar –"

Susan gave a wan smile. "Is not here, and even if she was, I'm not sure she's the one to help you through this. You didn't actually have any privacy in the hospital room you recovered in. We heard all of the story she told you. She's wracked with guilt and shame for a lot of reasons, and she's been out of your life for a century. From everything we know about her, she is even worse at suppressing and denying grief and loss than you are. Frankly, though, we're not concerned with her."

She sipped her own cup of water. "While I agree that in some ways your father – and David Anderson, and possibly a few others – can be sources of comfort and support, none of them are trained psychological councilors. They all have their own problems to deal with right now. Nor is conventional counseling going to work. A normal psychologist wouldn't have the experience to do much more than suggest you get out of the military and spend the next decade moving past your trauma, which is not an option."

She put the cup down and smiled sadly. "Both you and Major Shepard are psychologically battered right now, and if one of you goes down the other one does too. Shepard is a hard-ass who's endured more than most people, and you're a pretty tough cookie yourself, but sooner or later something is going to snap, and you're both going to pay the price. That's the danger of a bond, is it not?"

Liara shivered again, her mind working. "You feel I am a liability."

Susan shook her head, and actually scowled.. "No. I do not. Give me a little credit. If you were a liability, Lady Liara, you can already guess how the Commissariat would react." She softened her expression. "I … if anything, I am incredibly jealous of you. People discount the power of love,of being able to be one with another person. It always fascinated me about your people, how much strength they drew simply from one another. You are not a liability because you love Shepard, even if that is somewhat unconventional in terms of certain codes of conduct."

She crossed her legs, folding her hands over her knee. "But you are a danger to her if you don't deal with your own issues, Lady Liara. Shepard can't do it alone. She has problems she has to heal, baggage from the past you are all too familiar with. Having to deal with yours on top of that may not be something she can handle. She and Commissar Jiong had a lot to talk about late yesterday regarding your current state of mind... and it was decided that I would talk to you and work with you to see how we can help you move on."

Liara shook her head. "I am afraid it is hardly so simple as that, Commissar. I … have a great deal to work through in my head, that is true." She paused a long moment, considering. "I am not averse to … help, as you put it, although I am unfamiliar with the methods you would use. I do not know how many of my issues are due to my own inadequacies...or even what I am feeling, some days."

Susan tilted her head. "Guilt. Pain. Anger. How much do you hate your mother for what she did...and how much do you hate her for not seeing how badly her disapproval in your earlier years hurt you? How much anger do you have towards the Council of Matriarchs, I wonder? Your family? Your peers at the University of Serrice? How much guilt?"

Liara found herself clenching her fists as Susan spoke, not stopping. "Then there's the other thing you're probably still tearing yourself up about. We recorded a lot of things that happened on the Normandy. I mean, besides the bedroom romp. Mr. Dunn's rather sharp accusations of you using Shepard upset you very badly, almost as badly as what I said did. Shepard interfered in that conversation...but it's a question I think you have probably asked yourself."

She leaned forward. "That question is going to pop up again and again, you know. What hurts you, hurts her. What makes you despair or cry, cuts her like a knife. You can't afford to be weak, Lady Liara, or to languidly drift in her wake, or you will eventually be a liability."

Liara forced herself to relax her hands. "I cannot change myself overnight. I am .. I..." She paused, biting her lip and wondering why she felt a need to cry. "I am doing the best I can to be there for her. To listen when she needs to .. ramble. To be upbeat and remind her we are moving forward into our life. To try and do the best I can with this position I was given to show I support her. Yet I have to pretend I am nothing to her but a friend when others are around. To know that her leaders are still going to be using her as a tool."

She looked at Susan. "It must be easy for you, with your duty and focus, to suppress worrying if you are really good enough. You don't have to lay awake at night racking your brain to find a way to hide the fact that your body hurts and your soul is crying, because someone needs you to be strong."

Susan shook her head. "No, I can't say I have that issue. My conditioning doesn't let me even admit I love someone." Her voice was flat, almost hard now. "So when I say that I'm here to help you, please don't compare what you are going through to me, Lady Liara. As I said, I'm jealous of you. I will never get a chance to say what I feel to the person I care about, much less worry if I'm good enough."

Liara winced. "Conditioning..."

Susan nodded, the smile returning, but sardonic and self-mocking. "Yeah. Commissars are limited by mental blocks, brainwashing and cybernetics to always support the SA and suppress threats to it, all the time. It's not something we control. A part of me is here because someone very …"

She twitched, gritted her teeth,and exhaled, her hands trembling. "... ver...very .. important...to me..." Her voice eased. "...asked me to. Asked me to talk to you. To offer my assistance. To listen and provide what help and advice I can. I don't want to let that person down any more than you want to let Shepard down. But a part of me is doing this because if you are stable, Shepard is. And if Shepard is stable, the SA has one more weapon in it's arsenal."

Liara nodded. "I am sorry – "She stopped, at Susan's upraised hand.

"Lady Liara, don't feel sorrow or pity for my situation. My life and free will are a sacrifice, yes, but one I would willingly pay even if did have a choice. The only difference in my childhood and Shepard's is that I got a nifty interface chip shoved in my spine to orgasm from the whipping and beating I took and handed out, and instead of being picked up by a gang I was picked up by the Commissariat."

Liara's eyes widened in horror, but Susan continued. "People are always shocked because I'm cheerful...but I tell myself everyday that I have everything to be cheerful about. I protect the innocent. I punish the guilty. I stop those on the line of doing wrong from doing so by sheer fear. I get to beat the type of people that abuse little girls into bloody paste, and then I have a martini as I set them on fire." She shrugged. "I tell myself, even if I can't say it or act on it, that I know someone cares about me. I'm not a puppet. I'm a sacrifice, and the whole point of sacrifices is that you give up something to gain something of greater value."

Susan smiled again, and exhaled. "Every day is a blessing that I gain because I will not let my past dictate my future. I sacrifice myself for the people of the Alliance, because no matter how silly or selfish or stupid some may be, no matter how bigoted or blind to the galaxy around them – they're just people. We suffer so others can be at peace. And while I know I'm conditioned...I'd do that even if I _wasn't. _"

She tapped the sash around her slender waist. "I can't change who I am, but I can control how I look at the world around us. So can you. You're a princess of the Thirty, whether or not your people like you or not. You survived fights that would have killed many an asari commando. You went toe to toe with the second most powerful biotic in the galaxy when you weren't 100% and you sent her flying."

She smiled. "You didn't do any of that from weakness, Lady Liara. You did it because you are strong when you have something … someone... to protect and defend. When things get rough Shepard is going to draw on you for that strength, and you can't have it be something you give her only at great cost to yourself, or it will fail you both one day."

Liara shook her head. "Am I not a sacrifice for Sara? Is that not why, in fact, I am sitting here wearing a Systems Alliance uniform, light years from my home?"

Susan giggled. Liara stared at her, and the woman full out erupted in laughter. "Oh...wow. Lady Liara, do you have any idea how many men, women, other asari, and probably a few bent turians would love to be where you are right now, in terms of your relationship with Shepard? Do you think she would be happy if you hurt yourself for her sake? Do you actually think Shepard would sacrifice you for anything?"

She shook her head, still chuckling. "The main reason Shepard doesn't have a perfect PRIDE rating – despite giving over her whole life to the SA – is that we know she is bound to you. We'd never put her in a place where she has to choose between you and her duty because she would choose you. That's not the point."

Susan spread her hands. "The point is that if you can come to grips with your own issues, then you can help her get through the problems she has. The stronger you become, the stronger she becomes. The more you heal the wounds the last year have cut into your soul, the faster you can bandage hers up." She smirked. "And I have every confidence you can be stronger than you are now."

Liara sighed. "And you will help me with this?"

Susan nodded. "As much as I am able to, yes. I have extensive training on asari psychology, especially outcast psychology, both because of my background in usually being assigned to asari citizens of the SA and my own fascination with asari culture. My discretion is absolute. And while I can't guarantee the Commissariat doesn't bug, say, various living quarters or other areas of the ship, I can swear our little hidey-hole is secure. No one – not Alfred, not the SA, not the Commissariat – will hear what you and I speak to one another."

Liara gave her a long look. "Most...mind healing in my race is done through joining and melds."

Susan rolled her eyes. "Yet your suicide rate isn't much better than ours, Lady Liara. Just because someone knows everything about you doesn't mean they can magically fix it. And a lot of issues require the person suffering through them to come to some conclusion, some realization. Messing with memories and the way your people do it is, well, inelegant." She gave a childish looking pout. "It just sucks."

Liara could not help but laugh at her ridiculous expression, a smile breaking out onto Susan's face as she did so. The little commissar hopped up from the bed. "We won't start today. I figure you and the Major will talk about this some privately. I want you to understand that I'm not doing this just to make you a better support for Shepard. The Alliance owes you a great deal as well. From every report, you saved Shepard's life more than once, and without her the geth would have triumphed at the Citadel."

She opened the door leading out. "We owe you to help you with whatever we can. I'll take you back to the science lab,now … but we'll talk later."

Liara nodded. "Very well.

O-ATTWN-O

Tali nervously stood outside the door of Shepard's stateroom, her hands twisting around one another and her foot sliding along the smooth decking in a small pattern.

Her day had been spent in engineering and the core, running through various tests and fixing minor problems humans were too sloppy to see as critical. On a quarian ship, inefficiency was a slow death, and minor problems could pile up into life-threatening issues in a heartbeat. They rarely worked on – or had access to – brand new ships so fresh from the yards that stenciling from where metal was cut and welded hadn't even faded yet.

So some of the challenges – poorly machined hose connections, faulty trip breakers, wiring that never got bundled properly – were new to her. She had a hard time grasping why humans would let some things slide with the attitude of "don't fix it until it's broke", which to her sounded like an excellent way to die of asphyxiation some dark night when a group of minor failures cascaded off one another. To be fair, of course, given the ship was on it's shakedown run, the number of issues she found was actually surprisingly low. That just made her look harder.

She grudgingly admitted the staff working under her was good, maybe better than the Normandy's own tech team. Most of them were younger males overseen by older females – a pattern she had seen elsewhere in the ship. The human males were energetic, impulsive, and brash, the females bossy and more detail oriented.

Her assistant engineer, an older male Lieutenant named Casey Patrick, was a very fussy, organized man with a near-quarian level of attention to detail and an acerbic, biting demeanor that reminded her of her father in many ways, despite the curious nature of his accent. It was clear, after the morning shift, that the man didn't really care for the idea of being her subordinate. Unlike others, however, he didn't let that stop him from doing his job to the best of his ability and giving her a wealth of undocumented practical advice and shortcuts.

The engineering space on the Kazan, while more elaborate and powerful than the Normandy, lacked the same sense of sheer awe-inspiring power. Maybe because the core, as mighty as it was, didn't dominate the entire engine room, or maybe because, unlike the Normandy, the space was brightly lit and expansive.

She had her own little office, crammed with ship displays, blueprints, and status repeaters, a tiny desk filled with engineering manuals thicker than her wrist, and a haptic display and computer system clogged with support tickets for minor repairs all over the ship. She'd worked through this backlog quickly, assigning various techs to the jobs with an eye to their previous experience, and the only thing the Assistant Engineer did was tear into the first man who balked at having to clean the hydroponics filters.

"It's a cruiser, not a cruise ship, ye daft clown. Git down there, mon, and fix that filter afor I cram yer head into a locker."

Tali had chucked at Casey's thick Arcturus accent, and continued assigning jobs. She'd called him into her office to speak privately with him once the engineers were dispatched.

"I'm … still learning a lot about how to do this job. I appreciate all the help you gave me this morning, Lieutenant."

The man folded his beefy arms and stared down at her. "I dinna do it fer you, mumu. But fer the ship, and the team. I can't say what got in the Boss Lady's head to drag ye inta this mess and make you the Chief, but it's not my place ta complain." He scowled. "My duty canna be something I do only when I feel like it, or if the time suits me, seen?"

She nodded. "My people feel much the same way about engineering tasks. They keep the lives of everyone aboard safe and cannot be taken for granted."

Casey had snorted at that, his thick jaw jutting out, the curious braids of his graying hair swaying as he shook his head.. "Ye'll find most people are sloppy and lazy until the first time they get spaced or lose a mate to some such foolishness as not followin' procedures properly. Ye can't just talk sense into them. It has ta be beaten. It's good ye have enough brains in yer helmet to see the Core is the heart of the beast and to treat her with respect. Better that yer training is more than jus' glancing at the telly to see the green status, seen?"

He unfolded arms to rub his chin. "But respect from me or any one else is a thing you will have ta earn. I've a good eight years experience on you, mumu, even if I can't say my electrical or optronics is clean and tight as yer own. I trained that Chief of yers on the Normandy, Adams, and I canna say he did a poor job with ye, but I won't just sit and be eyes about it. If ye fuck something up, we're gonna talk to the Boss Lady, we are."

She nodded. "I can't ask for anything else. If you trained Chief Adams, I'd be happy to learn what you have to teach me. And if I get something wrong, I'd much rather get yelled at by Shepard than have it damage the ship or get someone killed."

The man had grunted in an approving fashion. "At least ye aren't full of yerself. Git out of this cubby, then, mumu, and lets go over ta the LSU for a looksee."

She'd finished the morning learning a great deal about the support machinery aboard larger Alliance ships, which far outstripped anything the Normandy had, or for that matter most quarian ships that weren't liveships. The Kazan could create limited air, grew it's own food, and recycled 99.4% of it's water. There were emergency backups for nearly every critical system, and she began to see why human work seemed so slipshod – no quarian vessel had so many robust and interconnected backup systems.

Her learning experience had been cut short when she'd gotten a terse message on her omni-tool to meet with Shepard in her stateroom at 1700 hours. She'd thanked Casey for his insights and, after wiping down her suit with cleansing towels, made her way to the bridge and the door she stood in front of.

Her omnitool chimed, and she tapped the door panel. "It's Tali, Shepard."

The door opened, and Tali walked in, glancing around the small space. Shepard sat at her desk, which was covered in datapads, closing a dog-eared manual of some kind and tossing it into a drawer in disgust. "Hey, Tali. Have a seat." She rubbed her temples. "I'm starting to think I'm too stupid to do this job."

Tali smiled behind her mask and sat, eying Shepard's posture. She was clearly tired, with an air of being overwhelmed visible in the collection of materials on her desk and the weary set of her shoulders. At the same time, there was a subtle relaxation in her posture, as if she'd been carrying some heavy weight and set it aside.

Shepard swept the pads into a neat stack and set them to one side before facing Tali squarely, hard blue eyes direct and clear. "You needed to speak to me about Joker, you said. I'm sorry I've been tied up with other things, but I figured you wouldn't bring it up unless it was important."

Tali nodded, swallowing. She had no idea how to say what was on her mind, but told herself Shepard was, as she'd told her recently, her friend. "It's … complicated."

Shepard's expression flickered. "I used to think that about Liara, too, Tali. Then I realized it's not. It's hard to just admit the words, sometimes, if you aren't used to doing so. Sometimes it's hard to figure out what to say, but it's not complicated if you just let it out. Scary, maybe."

Tali thought over this and shook her head. "It is scary, but in my case it's also complicated." She forced herself not to wring her hands together. "You already know that my father isn't happy I'm here, and that part of the reason I came along was that I didn't feel ready to go home. I'm happy that you felt I was good enough to serve at this position, and I'm proud to be here."

Shepard smiled. "You earned it, Tali. And frankly, your father is a massive dick. Anything that pisses him off tends to be high on my list of Things To Do."

Tali laughed. "He...he's just worried about me. Too much so. I .. going home would have been like being in a jail. It's not that he doesn't believe in me, but he hates the idea of me getting hurt." She sighed. "I'd never thought I would hear him say he was proud of me, but he did. He doesn't think I'm ready for this, but ..." She shrugged. "That's not what I'm confused about."

Shepard nodded, and Tali continued. "A big part of me agreeing to take this role and come along was from not knowing what to … do... about Jeff. The crew of the Normandy was nice enough, and a few of them went out of their way to help me out, like Wrex and Ashley. But Jeff is …. the one who spent the most time with me, outside of Engineering. Messages on the omnitool. Cheering me up when I ate, or felt lonely. When we started t-talking I didn't.. expect things to go the way they did."

Shepard nodded again. "You aren't the only person who's gone down that road, Tali. It just happens, I suppose."

Tali bit her lip. "Yes, and Jeff had no one to talk to who didn't look down on him, or pity him, or not see how badly their little slights and actions hurt him. I did. I … guess I got a bit closer than I expected, really."

She glanced away, fixing her gaze on the carpet. "On the Flotilla, anyone interested in me was probably doing it because of who my father was. I was isolated from most people, kept within the Zorah sections of the Rayya, one of our Liveships, rather than my father's ship. I wasn't given much choice in what to study or do – I was just trained, in the same way my father was, and his father."

She sighed. "My Pilgrimage was my first time living on my own, making my own choices. I nearly got killed half a dozen times in a few weeks, and when I arrived on your ship I was scared, and lonely. Jeff was the first person who looked past my suit and saw me as a person, not … an asset, who acted as if there was nothing weird about a person who couldn't eat the same food, or show you their face."

Shepard sighed. "I saw you as a very brave young woman who'd risked her life to give us the help we needed, Tali. Not as an asset, or a thing."

She smiled. "I know, Shepard. But it's not the same. You were … are … a little scary. The first time I saw you, in Fist's club... you were terrifying. Unpredictable. Hard to get close to. Your stance, like I said that day in engineering, was like a wall shutting everyone out. I don't mean to say you – or anyone else – treated me badly. Jeff just saw .. more, I guess."

Shepard leaned back. "There's nothing wrong with being attracted or falling in love with someone who sees the person you are, no matter if you're wearing a suit or trapped in your own past. That's how Liara dragged me out of my own personal hell, Tali."

The quarian nodded slowly. "Yeah." She glanced down again. "But I don't know what to do from here. It's not like I can …" She gestured at her suit. "I'm not even human, like he is."

Shepard snorted, and Tali looked up, a bit hurt, before Shepard spoke. "That didn't stop Liara and I, did it?"

Tali sighed. "That's not the same thing, Shepard, and you know it. This suit -"

Shepard made a slashing motion with her hand, mirth fading. "Bullshit. Joker is not the kind of person who minces words or fakes emotions, Tali. If he's interested in you, he doesn't care about that suit, or your being human, or the fact that you doing anything more than hugging him would cause him pain." She sighed. "He's a very badly hurt kid, who may be here less for the right reasons and more to simply rage against God and society that traps him in his flawed body."

She glanced up. "But he's also here for you. And you should know why. YOU, Tali, gave him mobility. Humans had the tech and could have done what you did, but they would have cost too much for him to afford. He'd been trapped in pain and you set him free from that, without asking a thing. You spent time with him and gave him something to hold onto. There's nothing wrong with falling in love, and you shouldn't be surprised he did the same." She paused. "But I do have to ask if you have really figured out yourself what you want."

Tali sighed. "No, I .. I haven't. Part of me wants to go home. Part of me wants to be here. Part of me just wants to take off this damned mask and let him touch me, just one time. I don't want this to be a silly crush, or me … being a silly girl, wishing things were different."

Shepard was silent for several seconds before speaking. "I'm not real good at this sort of thing, Tali. Hell, I couldn't even figure out the problems and wants of people I'd been serving with for years and ended up being blindsided when someone felt they loved me. What happened with Liara was a mix of .. a lot of things, and it could have gone many other ways."

She glanced up, meeting the soft glowing gaze of Tali. "But I can say this – you won't be any happier if you turn your back on your feelings and pretend they aren't there. Maybe you will get hurt and maybe you'll both be better people. But you have to be honest with yourself, first."

Tali swallowed. "I think I'm using him as... as an excuse not to return home. As long as we just … talk and hang out and … wish things that won't ever happen, I can tell myself that I should stay."

Shepard folded her arms. "Tali, running in place like that is crap. Trust me. I did it for a long, long time. But at the same time, you need to make sure that you want to be with him for the right reasons. It can't be just because he makes you feel better about yourself, or feel wanted. And it damned sure can't be because you think convincing him to come with you whenever you head back to your people will translate into you giving them a Pilgrimage gift of worth."

Tali started, badly shaken by that statement, and stammered something, but Shepard cut her off. "He needs you because he's in pain. He's not out here because he loves the Systems Alliance, Tali. He's here for the same reason I was for the longest time. It's an outlet to scream out the pain you feel. You push yourself to be the best so you can tell yourself at night it's okay if no one talks to you. If no one sees the real you. You take pride in your skills because you can't take pride in yourself."

She picked up the top datapad on the small stack she'd made. "This is Commissar Jiong's report on Jeff. You know what it says? Minus the fancy language, he's a bad-ass pilot who wants to be normal. Except he can't. He's got that mouthy streak and that habit of cracking jokes because he's fucking depressed, Tali, so depressed that you may be the only thing in his life that's good."

She leaned forward. "You may think you aren't worth the time. You may worry your dad thinks you're a silly kid. Hell, you may think you came in here to ask me to talk to Joker for you. But you are the only thing he has...and I'm not going to let you shy away from telling him exactly how you feel and that you need him too."

She huffed and leaned back. "I don't have time to run a goddamned love boat, Tali, but I need your head in the game. If I have to I'll have Dallas prep a clean room, take the ship to zero-G, and let you two work out your hormones."

Tali was immensely grateful for the mask that hid her blush, and yet trembled under the harsh crack of Shepard's voice. "I... "

Shepard shook her head. "I don't want to be a hard-ass about this...but it's the only way I got it through my own thick skull that you have to risk being hurt to stop fucking hurting sometimes." She tapped her comm panel. "Pilot Moreau."

Joker's bored voice sounded over the comm. "Yes, Major."

Shepard eyed Tali while she spoke. "Time to the Watson translation, at current speed."

Joker's voice came back a moment later. "Four hours, thirty two minutes. Since we're going at all ahead senior citizen instead of flank. Ma'am."

"Good, and stop with the ma'am bullshit. You only get polite when you're pulling something. Get one of the off-watch pilots to relieve you and report to my stateroom as soon as possible, preferably without breaking anything and bleeding on my brand new cruiser."

"God, what a hater. I'll be there in a few."

She clicked off. "This stateroom is private. I'm going to talk to my marines. You are going to sit here and talk to Jeff. When I come back, I'm going to talk to the both of you." She stood.

Tali sighed. "I don't know if this is a good idea..."

Shepard forced a smile. "Tali, I'm not … good at being a friend, but I'm trying. I danced around my own issues with Liara for a long time before she basically MADE me open my damned eyes and see what a fool I was. Since I can't talk about this in a way to make it all magically better, the least I can do if I call myself your friend is to help you get past the mistake I made."

She turned. "VI, message Lieutenant Cole, Senior Chief Vega, and the senior NCO and Lieutenant of each detachment of marines to meet me in Marine Assembly, on the double."

She tapped her omni a moment later. "Pressly, going below. You have the deck and the conn. Joker's coming off watch for a bit to discuss something, but he'll be back up well before translation. Comm me if anything comes up."

She turned to face Tali. "Just talk, Tali. Trust me."


	5. Chapter 5 : Bonds and Echos

**A/N: **_More than one person has commented or asked about specifics of the things Shepard and Liara are into. The reason I have not (and will not) write explicit scenes with sexual content is simple. They aren't what the story is about. This is pretty much the only time specifics of any kind get mentioned, and that is in an entirely clincal light._

_The only reason I do so now is that it's needed down the line for some of what I set up in later chapters and ME2. I was planning to do this on some level back in OSABC (which is why my warning message was so dire) but decided it robbed the scene of the emotion I wanted. But glossing over it at this point is kind of detracting from the goal of why I included such an aspect in the first place._

_Before my fellow sciencey types jump on me about neutronium, I know it doesn't quite work like that. I'm allowed to move at least a tiny bit away from the super-hard adhesion to science fact every once in a while in the name of the Rule of Crazy Awesome. Besides, Master of Orion did it first._

_Speaking of Crazy Awesome, go read Progman's _**_Flock of Vandals._ **

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><p>"<em>The funny thing about 'routine' missions is that those are the ones where it all goes to shit."<em>

– _Admiral Yonis Chu, 'African Bull in a China Shop'_

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><p>"Relay activation imminent. All hands, stand by for transition."<p>

Alfred Jiong grimaced as he toweled moisture from his body, his stomach flip-flopping as the Kazan emerged through the relay. Tying his towel around his waist, he glanced into the tiny mirror on the steel bulkhead in front of him, running his hands through his hair.

He had still not quite gotten adjusted to the cybernetic replacement for his lower right leg, making him nearly lose his balance as the ship corrected course. He glanced down at it, the heavy white medical tape around his still slightly swollen knee discolored with spots of blood, and sighed.

He shaved swiftly, returning to his tiny cubicle to put on some clothes – underwear, a plain white t-shirt, and a pair of workout shorts. He was considering on whether or not to proceed to medical and wait for the doctors who were expected to join them to arrive or just do his physical therapy when Commissar Susan D'Alte opened his door.

He glanced up. "Yes?"

She glanced at he knee and the gleaming metallic limb below it and sighed. "You left your medical package in the holding area. And that tape needs replacement. Sit."

He grunted, levering himself down on the bed, and extended his leg, as she knelt and began unwrapping the tape. Neither of them spoke for long seconds as she removed the tape, even as his expression shifted to one of pain.

The exposed knee joint was discolored and inflamed, and Susan attached a slender fabric patch to it, the surface of the patch containing a small screen that lit up. Her voice was quiet as she read the results.

"It's infected. You should have requested medical leave instead of taking this mission. You haven't even recovered from the beating you took on Virmire, much less the Citadel one."

Jiong's voice was cool. "After arguing my case with such diligence, the option to decline seemed counter-productive to my goals. Even if I did need additional downtime, it would have been detrimental to the security of Major Shepard to not be here." A note of bitterness and frustration had crept into his normally cool tone as she sighed and undid the diagnostic package.

"I could have dealt with it until you recovered, you know. It isn't as if this isn't important to me as well." She opened one of the drawers under Jiong's narrow cot and pulled out a thin black case, opening it to reveal a selection of hypo-spray injectors. She picked up one with red banding around the base and placed it against his knee.

Jiong arched an eyebrow. "I didn't know you knew about my stash of agonals and pain suppressants."

Susan gave the thinnest of smiles, but didn't say anything, focusing on the knee. Several minutes of silence passed as she worked, finishing by re-wrapping the knee in new medical tape and sealing it with medigel under a slight layer of omnigel.

She looked up from where she knelt on the floor, meeting his gaze. "You'll still have to get some antibiotics for this. And probably a good doctor to look it over. You need to be careful, Alfred. You can't protect her, or anyone else, if you cripple yourself in your zeal."

Jiong shook his head. "I do not fear her inability to take care of herself in a physical sense. But I pushed myself to make this trip, even if I am not fully ready physically, because she needs an adviser who is … "

She snorted. "If you say 'trustworthy' I may hit you with my mace. Just because the Guidance Cadre hasn't given us any appalling orders yet doesn't mean they won't, and it's not like we can say no."

His features shifted into an expression of agitation at that. "If she cannot trust us, Susan, there are few others for her rely to upon. I will not simply let the Cadre tell us to ruin a hero of the Systems Alliance. She deserves more than that."

He experimentally flexed his knee, and the expression on his face eased. "Thank you." His voice was softer than usual, and she turned away, busying herself with putting up the leftover medical supplies. He didn't say anything for several seconds, before sighing and rubbing his temples. "How did your talk with Ms. T'Soni go?"

When she spoke, her voice was tense. "Lady Liara is more of a mess than you thought. I don't think she recognizes it, but I saw signs of bond imprinting."

Jiong frowned. "I specialized in salarians. What is this bond imprinting?"

Susan dumped the last of the trash into the tiny wastebasket by Jiong's desk before standing. "A condition where two bondmates begin affecting each others reflexive reactions and possibly mental states. She demonstrated several extremely human actions during our interview, including arching an eyebrow."

Jiong shrugged, and Susan sighed. "Alfred, asari don't _have_ eyebrows. Lady Liara's marks are just tattoos. That isn't the same sort of adoption as turians borrowing the human nod, it's a muscle reaction that comes from two bonded partners who have nearly aligned neural systems."

Jiong stood, testing his weight. "I fail to see the problem, but I trust this is not a good thing?"

She stood as well. "No. Bondmates are expected to … align gradually. Over years, even decades. Whatever they're doing is making them bond more deeply and rapidly than is even remotely safe. There is every possibility that Lady Liara could become mentally unbalanced... or, if we get really unlucky, pregnant."

Jiong folded his arms. "I will admit the asari version of the birds and the bees was not something I paid much attention to, but I was under the impression pregnancy was voluntary for them."

Susan sighed. "That is because most don't have the biotic strength to form the proper kind of channels when they are young, and because most links are too shallow and stay that way until they bond properly as matrons. Liara is so young that I doubt she has control over how her body will react and she may not even recognize the signs – it's something mothers or fathers teach their daughters in their second century, and Liara left hers at fifty!"

Jiong rubbed his temples. "That will be a fascinating discussion to get into with Shepard, right up there with getting around to telling her about Anderson's connections to Cerberus. What can we do to prevent this from becoming a complication, such as her blowing our heads off in anger?"

Susan folded her arms, leaning against the wall. "Talk to them about it."

Jiong shook his head. "I don't know if I can. Just going over the PRIDE ratings with her was bad enough. Touching on this is likely to produce an emotional reaction of even greater magnitude, and her own psychological condition is fragile enough that it could do more harm than good. She still has not fully convinced herself she is good for Ms. T'Soni, after all.."

Susan nodded. "It may be better to go through Lady Liara for this, since she is more … mm. Less given to bursts of emotion, or at least less likely to break from such bursts?" She let her arms fall to her sides. "We still have a little time to go over it all, and we have to keep an eye on the ongoing mission of the ship and crew as well."

Jiong wearily nodded. "I still need to perform my physical therapy. I trust you can be available to interview the incoming medical team and keep an eye on Shepard?"

She smiled and tilted her head. "Yeah. I can do that." She glanced at his knee again, then back up at his face. "Are you going to be okay?"

Jiong gave her the best smile he could. "No. But ours is to serve and endure, is it not?" He squeezed her shoulder, until it hurt both her shoulder and his hand, their expressions coldly locked into masks of polite cheer, and then he was gone.

That contact was the best they could do on most days, and Susan didn't try to rub her shoulder or relieve the pain as she left his quarters to return to her own. It was the only way to acknowledge anything.

Instead of letting herself fall into thinking about things that might never be, she busied herself with reviewing her materials on asari physiology. Whatever their personal feelings might be, the mission she and Jiong were given was brutally clear. Preserve Shepard at all costs. If that meant catering to whatever complications Liara caused, then she would do so.

After all, her conditioning wouldn't allow her to fail.

O-ATTWN-O

"Watson Command, this is SCB83 Kazan, requesting security envelope clearance and docking guidance to Scorpion, over." Ensign Traynor's elegant accent wafted across the bridge as Shepard sat at her station, looming over the plot below, her eyes flitting across the status screens above and below her.

Watson was one of the main member colonies of the Alliance, but had suffered from a heavy pirate attack almost twenty years ago despite the defenses the world had at the time. Politicians had spent a great deal of time, money and hot air on turning Watson into a literal fortress world.

Four class C battle stations, each festooned with weapons and packed with fighter ships, rotated serenely above the surface of the planet, along with half a dozen heavy industrial weapons factories. The ground forces on the planet itself were heavy, stiffened by thousands of asari immigrants who'd become SA citizens by way of four years of military service, making Watson's armies the most potent biotic force in the SA. The planet had nearly as many GARDIAN laser towers and heavy GTS batteries as Earth itself, and it's colony buildings were now carved out of deep mountain ranges and hidden under dozens of feet of duraplate.

As a result, entering into orbit around Watson wasn't as simple as pulling up to the docks on Arcturus or the Citadel. Shepard watched her plot as a squadron of fighters followed by a scout frigate flew by, no doubt scanning the ship carefully. In the distance, a trio of heavy missile cruisers squatted threateningly just out of active ECM range.

Liara, standing quietly at her station, watched her displays carefully. After conferring with the tech next to her, she spoke. "High energy particle scan of the ship is being conducted, Major. The missile cruisers in low elliptical orbit have missile acquisition radar turned on."

Pressly muttered under his breath as he watched the plot. "Paranoid bastards."

Liara shrugged, pausing to give a small smile to this, and Shepard nodded at her. Liara had been acting weird since mid-afternoon, but they'd not had a chance to talk yet. Rather than pry, she tried to project her trust and faith in Liara across the bond they shared.

She was still figuring out aspects of that bond. She'd done some reading in her tiny amounts of spare time, and the bond they had was, as Liara had spoken of on the Citadel, deeper than most asari achieved with non-asari partners. Maybe it was because she was also biotic, or maybe because of the Beacon or something else. Strong bonds were dangerous to young maidens because they were typically too weak to control them fully, but Shepard had snorted at the idea of Liara being 'weak'.

Her thoughts were broken by the hard voice of Watson's comm officer responding to their hail.

"Kazan, this is Watson Orbital Command. Your clearance for approach to Scorpion is approved. Follow the guide beacon on relative course one nine zero tac five for initial approach. Your destroyer escort squadron will be required to stay outside the security envelope. Scorpion will provide final approach and docking guidance. Upon dock and security cordon establishment, weapons transfer will begin. Additionally, Lieutenant Commander Sedanya and associated medical team will be boarding your ship during the evolution."

Shepard arched an eyebrow at the name. 'Sedanya' sounded asari, not human.

_Great. She's sure to just love what Li and I get up to. _

Pushing back on that thought, she nodded to Traynor, who spoke. "Acknowledged, Watson Orbital. Course change in fifteen seconds. We will have weapons handling teams ready for ordinance transfer once docking is completed. Kazan out."

Shepard sighed. "Thank you, Ensign. Go ahead and signal the captain of the Denver to withdraw the destroyer escort to the relay, we'll link up with them on our way out of the system."

She tapped the comm panel on her CO station. "Helm, bring us to one nine zero tac five in ten seconds. Weapons, have a handling party standing by to onload ordinance. Pressly, you have the deck and conn, I'm headed down to greet our doctor when they arrive."

Picking up the 1MC she spoke clearly. "All hands stand by for docking. Leave is not set. Security team alpha, report to starboard access, set security level five for weapons transfer. Stand down from general operations. Well done so far, Kazan."

Clicking off, she stood up from her chair. "Ms. Traynor, Liara, Mr. Patrick, you can stand down as well. Won't need engineering, comms or science for the next few hours. Joker can handle final approach communications."

She turned to enter the elevator, and wasn't surprised Liara managed to get aboard alongside her. She tapped the deck control for deck four before turning to face her. "Is everything okay? You feel out of sorts, Liara."

The asari smiled. "I am only thoughtful, Sara. I merely have a great deal to think about. I had a conversation with Commissar Susan that was … disquieting to me." She gently took Shepard's hand for a moment and squeezed before letting go. "I will be fine, however. I do not wish to distract you from your duties."

Shepard smiled back helplessly, Liara's presence blowing away any worries she had. "I'm fine. A little concerned about this Lieutenant Commander Sedanya. That name sounds asari."

Liara nodded. "If she is a medical doctor, then she will have been among the Clans. Few asari take up medical professions from the clanless, and .. well. Most of the Thirty would consider such a profession beneath them. If she is asari, then perhaps I should come along as well?"

Shepard shrugged. "Can't hurt. Besides, Medical reports to the Science officer anyway, so you make more sense than dragging Pressly along." She paused. "Speaking of asari, have you talked to the two asari we have on board already?"

Liara sighed. "Yes, I did. They are both immigrants from the outlying asari colonies, not the Republic. They were still rather too deferential around me, but I was able, I believe, to make them understand that I do not expect and will not tolerate the sort of deference Telanya demonstrated."

Shepard smirked. "Of course, Lady Liara."

Liara punched her shoulder. "Stop that, before you start the crew on it, Baroness Shepard." Still she smiled, and that's all Shepard was aiming for at the moment.

The docking went smoothly, and Shepard made sure that Cole deployed marines along the docking area and ports, alongside the security forces from the Scorpion weapons station, to oversee the move. Disruptor torpedoes were dangerous, but the new torpedoes that Colms had designed and that were being onloaded were flat out terrifying.

Degenerate matter was better known as neutronium, the hyper-compressed material formed when a star underwent secondary collapse after stellar fusion failed, but wasn't massive enough to be a black hole. The star collapsed into a neutron star, a stellar mass only a few miles wide, and it's entire mass was crushed into a material that weighed a ton per tablespoon.

Neutronium was almost indestructible, but making armor or anything else out of it was impossible due to it's nature. The only reason the material was stable was the titanic mass of the neutron star. Once removed, the material exploded back out of it's compressed state, throwing off enormous amounts of energy and hard radiation as well as kinetic force.

The SA had managed to stabilize tiny flecks of neutronium using powerful mass effect fields, and it was these flecks that tipped the torpedoes being loaded. When they struck a target, the mass effect field would cut off and the two inch flek of neutronium would expand to a sphere of burning energy and plasma some five hundred feet in diameter. The kinetic shock wave from the expansion would crush a dreadnaught's shields like paper, much less anything smaller than that, while sprays of x-ray and gamma radiation would tear into the surroundings with enough strength to kill krogan. The merely physical aspects of the burning plasma at several million degrees would be small fries after all that.

The Kyle-class torpedo was part of a series of weapons devised by BuWeaps (and Lieutenant Commander Colms prior to his transfer) as both a reaction to the Eden Prime disaster as well as the increasing mismatch between the SA and alien fleets. While the SA navy had increased in size until it was a major player on paper, their electronics, shielding and weapons were not up to par with turian models, much less the far more advanced asari or salarian ships. Salarian GARDIAN arrays and mass drivers were estimated to be 600% more efficient, while asari mass accelerators on their cruisers rivaled the main weapons on SA dreadnaughts. While the missile technology the Alliance had bought from the volus that lead to the Spearfish had doubled the Alliance's firepower, they were hard to produce and too vulnerable to ECM to be a true clinch weapons system.

The cost to build the new torpedoes was ruinous – Shepard had blinked at realizing each one cost as much to make as a fighter – but their killing power and, more important, threat value were enormous. These weapons could be fitted on anything down to a heavy frigate, and even one would smash a cruiser into a burning wreck. With the new launcher making reaction and evasion much more difficult, a ship with the Kyle-class torpedo could threaten and stand off even ships of the line with impunity.

Of course, they had to be tested, and then the process approved. And given that the SA could only mine a few pounds of neutronium a year, their supply would be sharply limited. She'd been told she'd get forty torpedoes, but only five of them were the Kyle-class, the rest were standard M-AM matrix disruptors.

As a result, the onloading was done very carefully, with a great deal of security checking, safety checklists and barked orders. Shepard watched the evolution keenly, chatting with Liara about the details of the weapons, amusing herself with listening as Liara went into theories about Prothean weapons systems. It was nice to be able to just watch and talk and not have to worry about pointy-faced bastards blowing up planets.

About halfway through this process, as the loading team waited for another batch of weapons, a small group of officers with the flash of Alliance Medical Corps staff on their green and white uniforms entered the boarding tube.

There were seven of them. Three enlisted human females, two older looking male officers with the air of doctors, and two young ensigns, one male and one female, in light marine armor – probably corpsmen.

Leading them was a willowy asari, shorter than Liara. She had a rather narrow crest and dark blue skin, with triangular facial markings trailing along her cheeks and a stylized Alliance 'A' on her throat. She wore the uniform of a lieutenant commander, and approached Shepard and Liara confidently. "Major-Commander Shepard. I am Doctor Sedanya, lieutenant commander, Watson Medical Corps, First Watson Army Group. My staff and I have been seconded to the Kazan to serve as your medical unit."

She saluted sharply, as did her people, and Shepard returned it with precision. "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Commander. This is Lieutenant Commander Liara T'Soni, the ship's science officer. The XO is occupied with the load but we'll have a briefing once we get back to Arcturus anyway."

The asari gave Liara a sharp look before nodding briskly. "Not to disrupt military discipline, Major, but..." She turned to face Liara fully, bowing deeply. "I am matron Sedanya of Clan Lifeshaper, child of Irayasi, fifth moon-blessed of the Clan. I am honored to serve aboard a vessel with a member of the Thirty, honor upon their houses."

Liara stiffened but inclined her head shallowly. "I am Liara , of House T'Soni, child of .. Aethyta Vasir, of the line of Nathess T'Soni who slew the Silent Queen. I fear my courtesy is lacking, as I have no chathesi aboard this vessel, but I welcome your aid and counsel."

Shepard flinched when she mentioned Aethyta instead of Benezia, but Sedanya merely smiled sadly and nodded. "You honor me, Lady Liara." She straightened, politely turning to face them both rather than just Liara. "I was dispatched after a great deal of … what is the human term? Wangling? Whanging? Conducted between General Dominzi and one General von Grath."

Shepard snorted. "Wrangling, Lieutenant Commander. The art of arguing. That's because General von Grath took my old doctor, who had experience with asari and quarian medicine, for his own unit. I wasn't comfortable going into possible combat with a human medical specialist with no experience in alien biology, and the only ones on Arcturus who fit that bill were graduate students."

Sedanya nodded again. "Given the large number of asari on Watson and our presence in the Alliance military, I assure you I am at least very able at healing my fellow asari as well as humans, but I have spent the past eighteen years also working on salarians, the occasional quarian miner, turians – even hanar."

Shepard smiled. "We have one quarian aboard, our chief engineer, so that experience will come in handy."

Sedanya folded her arms. "My staff is two surgeons, Lieutenants Peter Vales and Ronald Sang. Both also have experience with asari patients. I also have a pair of battle-trained triage medics, Sergeants Talitha Patel and Ross Davidson. Finally, my personally trained team of medical assistants – Chief Julia Renolds, and Specialists Amy Wildse and Shield Ean." She turned to them. "Chief, go ahead and set up our equipment in medical, and make sure trauma is ready to go. Last time I was on a shakedown run, a conduit exploded and we had heavy electrical burns. Lieutenant Vales, make sure our medical supplies get onloaded and get together with the ship's supply officer on what else we need."

The medics swept past, and Sedanya folded her arms. "General von Grath sent a message saying you were _particularly_ stubborn and difficult about injuries, Major. I am not above using my biotics to keep you in bed if you try to leave medical early should you be wounded, and I am not at all happy you are up and around after your heroics at the Citadel."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Christ, all doctors are dictators." She smiled after that. "My previous doctor used to fuss at me for getting up too quickly, but … well, the situation was dire many times."

Sedanya nodded. "Yes, it was. My bondmate and daughters were actually on the Citadel at the time of the attack, and survived unharmed. It is the least I can do to provide medical services for you and your ship, Major." She folded her arms. "However, I have not been sent your medical record. It's classified higher than even Todd – General Dominzi , that is – could clear."

Shepard noted Sedanya's familiarity with the general – she'd worked alongside von Grath for years and rarely, if ever, had called him Jason. Shrugging that aside, she motioned to the elevator. "It's a long and … delicate story, Lieutenant Commander."

Liara followed. "I'm afraid if you wish all the details, you will have to swear to at least the Eight Oath of Sublimation, if not the Sixth."

Shepard sighed. She'd not picked up a lot of asari culture during her brief stint training the dancing kanquess with asari commandos, but she was made very aware of the Nine Oaths. They were used whenever asari had to take acts that would cut against the grain of asari unity or tradition. The Justicars and Priestesses of Athame were the most common partakers of such things, but all asari respected the Oaths.

The Eight Oath of Sublimation was a promise on the swearer's prosperity and position that information shared with the person could not be repeated, and bound them as well as their bondmate. It was typically chosen when asari had to learn something dangerous that they might have to share with bondmates, and was often used by high ranking asari political types. Any asari bonded to Alliance Military personnel had to swear it, even if they were just bonded to a simple sergeant. If the sworn oath was broken, the violator would answer to the Justicars, or for SA asari who swore it, the Commissars.

Shepard wasn't sure there was much difference in who they answered to, except in the color of fire you'd die by.

Sedanya pursed her lips, but then bowed and made a gesture with her hands of siari acceptance. "I had not expected that, but it is not unheard of to require such, even in the Systems Alliance military. How important is this … information? I will keep silent on whatever you wish, and will swear to the Eighth with no reservations, but I am certainly not prepared to swear the Sixth."

Shepard shook her head angrily. "No, the Sixth will not be needed." In her mind the Sixth Oath was disgusting, a promise to commit suicide if a confidence or trust was breached, to treat the person the oath was sworn to as more important than their own lives. "But I must agree with Liara that some of what you will be hearing is very delicate and requires the utmost discretion. At the very least, it would ruin both of our lives, and quite possibly get us in very severe trouble."

Sedanya nodded. Whatever it was made Shepard nervous, and it did not bear thinking what would make such a hardened woman feel nervous. "I have no objections, then." She knelt quietly. "I swear myself to your secrecy, and pledge blood upon my line and bonds. Your secrets are my secrets. My lips and my thoughts will not betray you, nor those I love more than life. This trust I shall not break, lest my name be known as forfeit to Athame's justice."

Shepard nodded, and gestured for her to get up. "In that case, we should head up to my stateroom to discuss this in private. I think the loading is going well enough I don't need to stare at my people any longer."

The three turned to the elevator, which opened to reveal the slender form of Commissar Susan D'Alte. She smiled brightly, coming to sharp attention. "Major Shepard! Just who I was looking for."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "And you are..."

Susan stepped off the elevator. "Commissar-Captain Susan D'Alte. Assisting Commissar Jiong."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "Ah. Liara has spoken of you but we've never met. You said you were looking for me, is something wrong?"

The woman shook her head, her cheer evident. "Not at all, ma'am! I was actually coming to see if our medics were here – Alfred is being stubborn about difficulties he's having with his leg replacement, and I also have to do their initial PRIDE interview."

Sedanya smiled thinly, pulling an OSD out from her uniform breast pocket. "Commissar-Major Halyan expected your request and conducted a PRIDE evaluation of my team and myself yesterday, once orders came through. He said he would be available if you had concerns. The medics should be in the medical bay, and I will be by shortly."

Susan took the OSD and clipped it's end against her omnitool, smiling wider as it glowed green. "Sweet, I hate doing those things. In that case, I'll just do a background check later on, and we should be good." She paused. "I do need to talk to you, Major, when you have time, but it's nothing urgent."

Shepard gave her a wary nod. "I was just about to brief Dr. Sedanya on … certain issues." Her eyes cut to Liara, then back to Susan. "Would you need to sit in on that, or Jiong?"

Susan shook her head. "Nope. You're both big girls, you got it. I'm off to talk to Jack Halyan, haven't seen him in ages. I'll back on board for departure. Nice meeting you, Dr. Sedanya." With another happy smile, she sashayed off, and Shepard shook her head.

Sedanya gave a thin frown. "That woman is entirely too happy to be a Commissar."

Shepard nodded. "No shit. The smiling really threw me."

Liara sighed. "She is .. not as happy as she appears."

Shepard glanced at her, and then thought back to what Jiong had told her. "I don't think any of them are, Liara. Anyway, we might as well get this over with. Follow me, Doc."

It took five minutes for Shepard, Liara and Sedanya to reach Shepard's stateroom. Shepard sat at her desk, glancing over the status displays before tapping her comm unit. "Pressly, I'm in my stateroom, tied up with medical stuff. The onloading is going fine – you shouldn't need to supervise. Comm me when we're loaded up and ready to roll."

Pressly's voice was calm as usual. "Of course, Major. Everything seems nominal for the moment."

Shepard clicked off and faced the two asari in front of her squarely. "Doctor, there's some complications you need to know about."

O-ATTWN-O

Doctor Sedanya sat in her own office later that day, watching her people finish up their work in the Kazan's medical bay. The large open space and attached trauma area was done in gleaming stainless steel and pure white panels, with antiseptic decking and ceiling mount equipment studding the space. The ship was leaving Watson's system, headed out to deeper space to finish the trials, and she doubted her skills would be called upon anytime soon.

She found herself troubled, and lost in her thoughts, she looked out through the portal separating her office from the medbay. A twenty bed medical bay with trauma center, lab, and office was a nice step up from medevac tents and a closet with a pair of chemlights for an office. The money from shifting her service to space-side would be nice, and of course being attached to a name as prestigious as Shepard's would hardly hurt her career. She could afford to move Shovae and her daughters out of that tiny apartment and maybe even to the luxuries of Arcturus Station.

But her mind wasn't on the nice new job she had, or her improved fortunes. It was on the conversation she'd had with Shepard and Liara, and how neatly she was trapped in assisting in something she had very serious reservations about.

What a twisted dance they had, those two. She wasn't sure whether to pity them or admire them, legendary hero and tragic princess. A story fit for any echas novel, save for the dark truths she'd been told.

Learning Shepard and Liara planned to handfast, or marry as the humans called it, had been a shock, but hardly one that was unpleasant. She could see, in the privacy of the stateroom, the subtle hints of a bonding, and while she was rather unsure of the propriety of bonds at such a young age, it was hardly her place to upbraid a princess of the Thirty. Certainly it would be a bold statement to both human and asari culture, and one some would have issues with. If that had been the totality of the issue, she'd have congratulated them and had no problems keeping that little plan close to her crest.

No, that wasn't what had her thoughts lost in the currents either.

She was hardly familiar with human sexuality, given that her bondmate was drell – and honestly, she found most humans a touch too jealous and clingy for her taste. She'd never linked with a human. Humans seemed unable to control their mating urges, and their idea of sensuality was too crass and frankly male-driven to be of interest to her, professional or personal.

Still, she had at least thought she had some concept of it – a few nerve sensitive areas, not too different from turians or drell males and females. The women were nice to look at, very much like asari but without the ugly risk of ardat-yakshi. Liara was hardly unique in being attracted to a beautiful human female. That bothered her not at all.

The description of what Shepard and Liara did in the privacy of their lovemaking was quite disturbing, and definitely not what she'd been expecting. Review of the medical records of Shepard and Liara showed a series of severe burns, cuts, abrasions, and other damage, as well as strained muscles and what were clearly over-extended internal injuries. Protein and calcium buildup around the joints of the human's hips. Deformation of the cartilage near the azure on the asari. Biotic usage. Probably more, at some point she just shut the record off and decided any additional details would be counterproductive to know.

The two of them had been relatively discrete, she supposed, and able to play such wounds off as 'battle damage' to the medics on the Citadel. Who could say otherwise, given the repeated and regular fights they got in. Now, with such easy explanations out of reach given their current peaceful mission, they needed someone to cover for them.

She'd asked a few questions about why they did this and what exactly it entailed, which had gone nowhere fast. Shepard's rather halting explanation had been augmented by Liara's less embarrassed if less detailed clarifications, but the message was clear enough. They both enjoyed it and had no intentions of changing or stopping.

Her idea of lovemaking was hardly the injuries these two put each other through, but if that was what flared Liara's midnight, there was little Sedanya could do about it this point. Liara was clearly not only a willing participant but probably did more damage to Shepard than Shepard did to her. The injuries to the azure, midnight and other areas of Liara's body would seem to indicate that she was enjoying it as well, and that was definitely nothing she'd seen before.

She had agreed to ensure their injures were handled by her alone and not entered into the medical log, and Shepard had said she had already taken steps to have medical equipment on hand in their living areas. That was at least reassuring.

She'd explained very carefully that some of the things they did could lead to more severe injuries, and that repeated injuries to the same place on asari could lead to nervous system issues. She implored them to exercise a little more restraint, and then left the stateroom before she could get herself in trouble by saying something disrespectful.

It wasn't really her business, after all, and on reflection she decided that in a universe where shit like scale-itch infestations could break out among asari, turians, and humans, what they got into in the bedroom could have been worse.

No, what shook her to the core and made her seriously question the ethics of not demanding a release from her oath were all the signs of bond imprinting and echo resonsance she saw between the two. Bonding at such early ages was already very dangerous. And the kinds of activity they were doing to each other tended to only make control of the bond during sexual encounters more difficult to control and thus, more dangerous. Bond imprinting was not something to take lightly - there were quite a few asari taboos that stopped matriarchs from bonding with maidens for any reason. Imbalanced bond imprinting could lead to sharp emotional shifts, changes in loyalties, even neural issues as a brain stopped understanding which body it was supposed to belong to.

Echo resonance was worse, and something she was finding it difficult to overlook. Rarely explained to non-asari due to the fact it almost never happened, echo resonance was when the bioelectrical connection between two bondmates was augmented by their own biotic fields. Rather than the connection being a shallow sense that only was felt when in very close proximity, echo resonance could connect two such linked lovers across miles. The constant back and forth became grounded in each bondmates biotic fields, and if one was killed the other would almost certainly suffer catastrophic biotic damage or death.

She'd seen six cases of echo resonance collapses, and five of them were brain-dead vegetables. The sixth had literally burned herself to death with her own warpfire rather than deal with the agony.

The combination of a strong bond imprint, severe echo resonance, and pain-amplified force driving the bond deeper every time they had sex meant it was very likely that Shepard and Liara were altering each other's psyches and memories on a much deeper level than either would be able to control. Asari had evolved along such lines that neural rearraingments of that nature were not damaging, but humans had not. There was also a psychological aspect to this, as well, and one she didn't like, but she was a medical professional, not a mind healer or bonding adviser. She doubted either would listen to her worries about the danger they were in, much less think about the larger consequences.

Shepard and Liara handfasting, fine.

Doing whatever injured them that much, kinds of messed up, but fine.

But if Shepard was killed due to bond imbalances or driven insane through echo resonance failure, Sedanya did not want to think how humans would take it. The first human Spectre, dying due to her sexcapades with her asari lover, who was the daughter of an asari traitor who'd threatened the galaxy? And on top of that, a pureblood? Most asari would immediately assume Liara to be ardat-yakshi. The Thirty would try to stonewall an investigation to conceal the ugly truths about the ardat-yakshi, the Alliance would not stand for such acts and demand answers. The woman was the human president's handpicked personal champion, there was no way to cover it up. The ramifications of the wider galaxy learning about the ardat-yakshi were horrifying enough, but that wouldn't be the end of the chaos. Human and asari releations were unlikely to stay calm. The schism humanity had already caused in the Asari Republic, with over seventeen million asari flocking to human worlds, would be torn wider.

Goddess only knew what the salarians, turians, or others would do.

This was not her being a prude about deviant bedroom acts, or overly traditional about the proper time for a maiden to leave her path for that of the matron. This could be a serious threat to relations between the asari and humans, between asari and every other race out there.

With a moue of disgust on her lips, she set up a partition on her personal network to record her notes, careful to avoid names or even physical descriptions. Then she went to work on searching the Hearthwatch Clan's media archives and trying to put together a better picture of how this nightmare situation had occurred.

When her results on Shepard came back, full of gruesome images of humanity's child-sex slave markets and disgusting video snippets of the tortures some snuff-gangs put together, along with news reports and media tabloid spread about Shepard's ugly early life, she suddenly understood where Shepard had gone off the beach. She'd probably never had a 'normal' sexual encounter in her entire life, and the information she had indicated such gangs brainwashed or altered their victims to enjoy their torment.

Searches about House T'Soni brought back a depressing tale of a mother too busy with her own plans and preaching to pay the correct amount of attention to her daughter, an aithntar who'd run off for a century, a house lost in it's old glories, and a pureblood maiden so painfully shy that from all the social gossip, not a single asari could claim to even having a shallow link with. Liara T'Soni had admitted she'd had no melds or sexual contacts prior to Shepard – and thus, in the aftermath of a bonding more akin to a matriarch's than a maidens, Shepard had unwittingly imprinted her young lover with her own issues, and Liara had probably been unable to control the bond strength.

Given they were broken people holding each other together, trying to convince them to stop their relationship out of duty to the SA or the asari people was a laughable stupid concept. Sedanya figured she'd be lucky to escape with her life to even suggest such a thing.

The asari doctor sat back in her chair with a pained expression. She couldn't speak to anyone about this, of course. As dire as the situation was, the best she could do was attempt to mitigate the damage and start crash studying methods of bond stabilization and echo repression. And if need be, ensure if something did happen that would implicate the bond between the two as the problem, get rid of the evidence.

Standing up from her chair and walking over to the window into the med bay proper, Sedanya wondered if she was doing the right thing...or if she was going along with it because of the benefits her new job brought her.

She could only hope it was the former.

O-ATTWN-O

The Kazan and her escort of destroyers emerged into the dull vastness of the Lenal system early the next morning. A main G-sequence star with a small turian colony and a single Ashland-Eldfell HE mining operation, the only thing of note in the system was it's large asteroid belt of nickel-iron, which was on occasion mined by turian corporations.

Weapons testing – translation , blow up rocks – was likely to be mind-numbingly boring, and Shepard was starting to miss the excitement of being on the Normandy, with clear goals and something to do all the time. She waited patiently for Joker to stabilize the ships course, and for the jump-shock to clear from the sensors and comm antenna that were being extended so they could chat with the turians and get about it.

Thus, when Liara's eyes narrowed and she ordered her subordinates to deploy two wide-spectrum probes, Shepard was immediately on her guard. "What is it?"

Liara's eyes were moving rapidly over her sensor readouts, and she bit her lip. "The moment the sensors deployed we picked up heavy bursts of x-rays, as well as flow disturbances in the solar wake of the system. There is wreckage in orbit over Trigenta Petra, the turian colony, and more wreckage near the HE-3 station at Nutus, the gas giant."

Traynor hit several commands, then shook her head. "No response to any comms request, Major. The turian repeater buoy in the system is also not responding."

Shepard grimaced, punching her controls. "All hands, battle stations. Set condition 4SR, security team alpha and charlie, set repel boarders. Squadron Commander Lisken, report to the Bridge." She snapped off and tapped the battle stations alarm, the bridge darkened from bright white to the duller red of combat.

Pressly was already in motion, supervising Ops Alley, and Colms was bringing up the ship's defenses. "Major, all kinetic barriers online. Powering weapons and removing interlocks on missile banks. I suggest loading only standard torpedoes at this time."

"Affirmative, Weapons. Get the guns hot and you have authorization to arm disruptor torpedoes." She glanced to the side as the senior flight officer of her six fighters came out of the elevator. Jackson Lee Lisken was a tall slender man with the build of a spacer. Cool gray eyes met hers as he saluted, his otherwise plain looks a trifle blurred, as if he'd just woken up. "Reporting as ordered, ma'am."

She nodded. "A moment, SC. Liara?"

Liara was talking quietly to Vincent Madel, and looked up. "Probes are away but we are still looking over the data. Discharges of heavy missiles, however, seem to fit the pattern we are seeing.."

Madel was working his own panel furiously, almost a match for how fast Shepard remembered Joker tearing through menus and panels. "Best fit on the readings is probably batarians, Major. There's definitely signatures of positrons, which is how they set off their missiles. At least four ships, weight classification either heavy destroyer or light cruiser."

Shepard turned to Lisken. "Get your squadron out there, put up a screen around us. I've seen plenty of batarian pirate strikes, they like tossing out mines to cover their tracks, so be careful."

He nodded. "We'll launch in five, ma'am." With that he was gone, and Shepard turned back to Traynor. "Inform our escort of the problem. We will investigate the station and colony, they are to ensure nothing is incoming from the relay."

Traynor nodded, and Shepard got up, walking over to the plot. "No sensor contacts at all? Civilian ships? Anything?"

Liara shook her head. "Aside from two bands of wreckage that would match signatures of turian cruisers, no."

Shepard frowned. "Doesn't make sense. Standard turian colony defense is at least four cruisers on even a pissant colony, and a handful of system patrol boats. Four shitty batarian ships with missiles couldn't take them, the colony GTS, and a heavily armed fueling station." She glanced back at the other science tech. "Mr. Madel, how sure are you on that batarian classification? This is very far out of their usual stomping grounds."

The young man shrugged. "I'm sorry, ma'am. There's no wreckage of anything but turian ships, four wake trails leading towards the Omega Nebula, and positron emissions. I figured they were batarian pirates operating out of Omega."

Shepard shook her head. "That bitch Aria isn't stupid enough to let her thugs poach on a Hierarchy colony." She tapped her comms panel. "Joker, take us in, flyby past the HE3 station. High observable, make sure we're ready to fight."

She sat and waited, the plot updating the tiny blips of her fighters arcing out and forming a protective cordon. Eight minutes later, Liara frowned.

"Initial scans of the station show several structural and external damage. The patterns do not match the signatures the computer gives me for batarian weapons."

Madel had a confused look on his face. "Those are impacts from a collapsing-wave mass accelerator – salarian weapons technology, not something pirates would have. And there's...holy shit. Ion particulates..." He broke off. "This doesn't make any sense. Whoever hit this place is using a mix of salarian and elcor weapons, but batarian missiles."

Liara nodded. "The station is losing orbital velocity. Another six hours and it will fall within the collapse point of the gas giant's gravity well. Ion signatures fade rapidly. If no one had come by in a day or two, the only evidence would be positron traces."

Shepard leaned back in her chair. "Take scans. Can you tell if the station was boarded?"

Liara and Madel were quiet for almost a full minute. "It does not appear so. It was holed...repeatedly. Any boarding parties would have had to do so in full environmental suits, and significant materials on board would have been lost to space. The docking tubes of the station were blown apart...so were the rows of escape pods, before any could be launched, it appears."

"Fuck. Traynor, any net activity? Can we tap into the comm net on that station, anything?"

Traynor tapped several keys."I don't think so, Major."

Liara shook her own head. "The reactor was destroyed. There is no power. Boarding in search of evidence would be … very dangerous."

Colms rubbed his chin. "Why not send a probe inside? We do have multi-vector thrust probe units."

Shepard shrugged. "Do it. We'll pick up the data on our way out." She tapped her comm. "Joker, best speed to the colony, what would our ETA be?"

Joker's voice came back cool and professional. "Twenty-one minutes, ma'am."

She nodded. "Alright. Pressly, prep a comm beacon with everything we've got and fire it off. Traynor, comm the destroyer escort. I want two of them to follow us in and two to secure the relay. Liara, get suited up and pick one of your tech-nerds to tag along. Weapons, pick out some asteroids on our way in and test your guns."

She stood up. "Pressly, you have the D and C. Message Cole and tell him to have Beta Squad kitted up and in the pinnace bay in five."

Liara swallowed, but tapped Madel on the shoulder. "Acquire an environmental suit and shield unit from the armory and meet us in the pinnace bay with a class one science kit. I will join you shortly."

Shepard walked to her quarters, flinging open her closet and pulling down her armor. "VI, encrypted personal message, Tantalus clearance, to codename "Eliza". Begin message. At Lenal. System wiped. Investigating. Unclear attackers. Advise post haste." She paused.

The VI chimed. "Message ready. Open transmission window is available, transmit?"

She nodded, tugging on the armored undersuit. "Yes."

O-ATTWN-O

Riding in the pinnace was much smoother than decent in a MAKO, especially since it had it's own pilot who didn't ascribe to the piloting methods Shepard used.

Beta Squad – the informal name for the second detachment of her marine force – was sitting quietly. The group was a mix – three N5 marines, all with RRU experience, formed the core of the team. A pair of scout-snipers from the AIS acted as the long arm, and a single DACT was heavy weapons. The team's commander, a scarred female N7 lieutenant named Lee Riley, sat across from Shepard, hands busy with her heavy Eviscerator shotgun. Shepard had served with the woman briefly in her RRU days, but Lee had transferred out before Torfan.

That made talking to her a lot easier, but also made Lee a bit nervous, since she remembered the Shepard of old. She'd been trying to talk Shepard out of coming the entire trip. "Ma'am, we're perfectly capable of handling this without risking you or the Science Officer."

Shepard smirked, putting on her helmet. "I haven't rolled with N's for quiet a while, Lee. I've been piloting a desk for days now, I need some action."

Lee scowled before putting on her own helmet. "You pull that Kyle-crazy shit like you did on Dirth and I'm knocking your ass out and hauling you on the pinnace. You can court martial me later."

Shepard grinned. "Not the same as I used to be. We're going in fast and hard, find evidence, and getting the fuck out. I strongly doubt there's any hostiles down there, but after the shit I've been through the last year, I wouldn't be surprised if we run into undead Protheans." Shepard flexed her shoulders,

Liara muttered. "Or plant zombies." She carefully checked her custom pistol that Shepard had made her before holstering it. Her Colossus armor had been repainted to Alliance spec, and the MCV standard rank hatchings stood out on her shoulder.

Lee's helmeted head shook. "I hope not. Just barely survived the Tenth RIU, thought this gig would be some relaxation."

The pilot spoke over the pinnace intercom. "Coming up on the colony now. GTS batteries... intact. GARDIAN towers,too. Colony tower is … shit, blown to pieces."

Haptic video flickered in the center of the pinnace's seating areas. The terrain was some kind of brownish gray moss, and in the distance sluggish silvery water surged almost sullenly against a shore of dark black sand. Strange pods topped with frond-like leaves were scattered around the edges of a sharply defined square of concrete, the edges of it bordered by neat farm enclosures and hydroponic domes.

The turian colony was a crescent of plascrete buildings around a central tower, with GARDIAN towers at each cardinal point and nine GTS missile banks set into the low hills beyond. The small colony buildings were shattered, some still emitting faint trails of smoke. Bodies littered the ground along with splashes of blue – many of them too small to be adults.

The tower itself, a hulking curved construction, ended abruptly fifty feet from it's base, crowned by melted metal and the occasional straggling construction beam. Fragments of the tower and ugly warped splotches of melted dirt and moss were flung in a cone of blackened destruction a good two hundred feet from the tower, while holes big enough to drive a MAKO through were punched in and through what was left standing.

Shepard's eyes traced over the image. "Liara, do we know how many people lived here?"

The asari's voice was soft. "Three thousand. Mostly civilian families. There was a turian garrison of five hundred, and of course all adults had time in the militia and small arms."

Shepard nodded. "Set us down at the north edge of town outside of the fields. Weapons hot, everyone, and stay frosty."

The pinnace landed smoothly, the back of the craft splitting open and a ramp extending. Shepard took point, moving her hands in long-unused movements as she did so. The N-series marines moved into flanking positions, the snipers moving behind them.

Shepard keyed her comm. "Liara, stick with Mr. Madel and the science gear, and cover our backs. Drop a barrier followed by a shockwave if you get into a pickle and fall back inside the pinnace." She paused, moving her hands in another signal, and the snipers split up, heading for elevated positions. "Lee, take two and circle right. I'll take the DACT and one and circle left. Liara will hold here and scan."

Riley nodded, shipping her shotgun to withdraw an Avenger rifle. "Copy. Pattern Elo-Six, two clicks if hostile, three if fallback."

Shepard nodded, agreeing to common N7 practice of 'clicking' radio comms as a signal. "Copy. Move out."

Their scouting of the ruined colony took a good twenty minutes. Every single turian was dead. The colony defenses had been remotely hacked somehow, then their fire control software wiped and their targeting profiles deleted.

Liara's probes found no clear pattern to weapons used – turian, salarian, batarian, even human. No sign of biotics were found, and the turian garrison unit was found near the base of the tower, literally shot to pieces by heavy weapons similar to what elcor used.

There were no real clues as to the perpetrator. The omnis and computer units they found were wiped – Liara found faint residues of EMP discharges on several empty battery packs, and theorized someone had triggered an EMP device just before or just after the attack.

Shepard visualized it. Some kind of rapid, brutal attack on the orbiting ships, so fast no warning got out. Hacked defenses, and an EMP burst. Higher automation would be frozen, security systems offline, leaving only hand-to-hand and light arms to defend with. Against heavy weapons and some sort of orbital strike on the tower itself, that was suicidal.

Of course, not a single turian showed wounds to their backs. They'd all died fighting, even the older children.

Lee radioed in a few minutes later. "Found something. Not sure what. Get over here."

Shepard and her small unit moved to the location, a low slung building with the size and bulk of a warehouse. Warehouses didn't usually have turrets mounted in the walls, however, nor were they built of heavy duty heavy armor plating underneath the cheap duracrete wall surface.

A single heavy security door once kept the warehouse shut, but that had been masterfully blown down by shaped charges of some kind. Lee and her team were at the entrance, weapons ready.

Shepard moved from cover to join her, senses alert. "Sitrep."

Lee gestured inside."Dead krogan. More than a few. Some kind of lab."

Shepard frowned and stepped inside. The room inside the warehouse was spacious, a mix of an actual warehouse in the front, and oversized partitioned labs in the back. From the size of the doors and furnishings, this was a krogan facility.

_Krogan and turians didn't get along._

_Krogan didn't build fucking labs, either._

She glanced around, coming Liara a moment later. "Liara, get Madel and get to this location. I need you to tell me what the shit I'm looking at here." She walked down one side of the building as she waited. Here and there were dead krogan, wearing splintered armor with black and yellow colors, clutching weapons even in death.

Tall banks of computers, dark and dead. Stacks of weapons and ammo, carefully stockpiled. Several krogan armored vehicles, and a customized gunship, towards the back.

Liara arrived several minutes later, a bit out of breath, and Shepard waved her over, heading for the back. Three rooms with walls of bright steel took up the area, along with instruments on the ceilings and walls she didn't recognize. "What do we have?"

Liara began looking around, her features set in a frown behind her clear faceplate. "These are … genetic sequencing devices. I'm not particularly familiar with this sort of equipment, Doctor Sedanya would probably know more." She paused. "And this is a sub-spectrum particle scanner. I used one when looking at microscopic material surfaces in my digs."

Liara walked into the second lab. "...there is a drain in the floor, Shepard, and this table is similar to the ones we saw on Edolus at Cerberus's facility, although a different design." She pulled open a locker, revealing neatly racked tools. "Scalpels and medical syringes, most likely an autopsy or dissection facility?"

Shepard ran her hands along her ODIN nervously. "It's sized for krogan." She pointed to a chair and desk, both of which came up to her chest. "Krogan don't do science."

Liara was running scans on her omnitool. "There are signs of krogan blood and bone matter adhering to the tables. As there are no corpses in this room, I can only surmise krogan were being … dissected here."

Shepard shook her head, moving into the last lab. This one was even more bewildering, with a complicated paper chart pinned to one wall of the krogan nervous system, with many scrawled notes in korogish marring it's surface. "Make any sense of this? Or the equipment?"

Liara glanced around the room, which was centered around a blocky booth-like device with several small stations around it. "I hesitate to hazard a guess." She paused. "Shepard. There is a blood reading here, on the floor of this room. It was cleaned...but it is salarian blood."

Shepard walked over. There was an ugly grouping of holes in the wall, the metal discolored. "Someone got hit by a shotgun. Close range. Not many salarians would be able to survive that much."

Liara was examining another desk. "There are blank OSD's here, but nothing with data. There is a case for optical chips that shows sign of wear, but nothing is within."

Shepard shuddered. "This reminds me of fucking Eingana. Did you check for spores?"

Liara gave a small laugh. "Yes, I did." She knelt down, frowning, and examined something. "I'm getting some kind of fragmentary power reading..."

Shepard walked over. The desk was not quite flush against the wall. With a shove of muscle and biotics, she moved it aside, and a tiny clank was heard. Ducking down, she reached out and picked up a memory wafer from a manual recorder.

"The fuck?"

Liara gave a nod. "Memory wafers record using solid-state crystal imprints, rather than digitized data. It would not be vulnerable to an EMP burst...nor show up on most scans. The only reason I found it was I was looking for low-emission sources hoping to find any hidden rooms."

Shepard flipped the wafer in her hands. "Can I read it with an omnitool?

Liara shrugged. "You should be able to."

Shepard ran her omni over it,and there was a pause as the onboard computer processed. Then a grainy black and white video image splashed up.

The krogan in the image was unscarred, but his crest was extremely thick – a sign of great age,if Shepard remembered correctly. His voice was cultured and refined, weird for krogan.

"There is little time. The Broker assaults my works, I know not why. If you find this, Ylana, seek my release if you can. Clan Ganar does not break it wor – "

The image cut off, and Shepard sighed. Then she felt a surge of alarm from Liara. "What is it?"

Liara swallowed. "Ylana was the name of my mother's attendant. It was not a usual asari name, it was a namesake of her salarian father. I … assumed she perished with the rest of my mother's Triune..."

Shepard sighed, and glared at the wafer. She tapped her omnitool. "Lee, take pictures of everything, and then signal the pinnace for recovery. Ensign Traynor, contact the Turian Hierarchy immediately, and inform them that their colony has gone dark. And get me a secure channel to Arcturus using highest encryption strength ASAP."

Liara folded her arms. "You think the Shadow Broker destroyed this colony to get at this krogan?"

Shepard shrugged. "I have no clue. I will have to find a way to ask him, I suppose. He was of some help during the struggle with Saren, but that doesn't excuse this kind of fucking slaughter. I need to figure out what to do next."


	6. Chapter 6 : Hubris and Hope

**A/N: **_HA! OWNAGE! OSABC is on TVTropes. Gigantic thanks to a chaotic nine-tailed fox for that. _

_Garrus small pieces, finally finishing off the crazy salarian doctor, and a new Scooby-Doo MYSTARY! (I'm just baiting LDH at this point for lulz).  
><em>

_Admiral Ahern is my favorite canon NPC in the whole game, I think. The first time he burst out with "Sorry, Shepard, but there's no award for most times shot" I laughed so hard I broke my chair. A lot of people have commented on some of the dumb things Shepard has done. This is my way of a fix. _

_As far as the first part goes, it's preshadowing for a thing down the line._

_I had a PM asking me "Why Tali / Joker". I want you to think for a minute how fucked up a human being has to get in order for him to decide his best chance at finding love is with a computer. Then stick on top the relationship is more like mother/son than anything else. It goes beyond creepy into 'wtf am I seeing' territory, and it's goddamned terrifying as to what it implies about Joker's state of mind by ME3. _

_It looks like Progman beat me in update speed, but we'll see who wins the war on "most spectacular destruction of a Tupari machine" in the end.  
><em>

_Confused about the SA government in my AU? Try reading my "__**Systems Alliance Order of Battle**__" __or "__**The Cerberus Files : Humans**__"__. _

* * *

><p>"<em>The fact that you are here, in this training, tells me that you're likely a pathetic piece of varren shit who should be thankful they weren't shot at birth, or a rear-echelon motherfucker with more rank than brains and the mental capacity of a retarded vorcha. Either way, I've forgotten more about war than you'll ever know. So pay fucking attention!" <em>

– _Admiral Tradius Ahern, addressing the N7 cadre of 2182_

* * *

><p>Garrus Vakarian settled down in his chair with a great deal of satisfaction, his spurs flexing with repressed glee. He'd finally done it.<p>

Saleon was arrested, charged with nine hundred eleven counts of the murder of a sentient and six hundred plus counts of violations of the Citadel Rights and Security act. The salarian government wanted him to execute, and several others wanted a piece as well.

He'd enjoyed the walk through C-SEC, hearing the cheers and catcalls of his fellow detectives and officers, while he pushed the slightly battered form of Dr. Heart, better known as Doctor Saleon in front of him to a nearby jail cell. The hunt for the bastard had been satisfying and quick, ending with a battle aboard the doctor's medical frigate, the MSV Fedale, which was full of victims and strange medical technology. Telanya and Forlan had disabled the pitiful mercenary forces the salarian had assembled while Garrus took out the ship's engines, hacked it's internal defenses, and finally punched the sick doctor unconscious.

That had been the best part of the whole thing, actually. He chuckled as he added vithin spice to his morning kaffar, stirring it absently as he remembered.

He'd also been able to rescue over a hundred very ill, very damaged organ farm victims, most of which would manage to recover. Two of them had been very important members of the Palavenus clan, another was the bondmate of the daughter of Matriarch T'Rome. Garrus had been feted as the C-SEC hero of the day, made only better when he got to see Palin's gobsmacked expression as seeing the doctor brought in alive.

Palin's voice had been grudgingly full of respect. "Perhaps running all over space and having your fringe blown off a few times with that barbarian Shepard taught you a few things after all, Vakarian. Very well done. Your father will be proud of you."

Of course, some of the things he'd seen on the Fedele were deeply disturbing. There had been a pod of Thorian plant zombies on board, as well as several dead asari wearing the robes of the Triune Unity. Saleon had refused to explain why they were there, and Forlan was busy across the office even now, working on breaking the surprisingly difficult encryption of the doctor's OSD's and logs.

Also troubling was the strange black marks he'd found on some of the donor slaves on the ship. The C-SEC medics who had come aboard the Fedele to aid moving the wounded had said the marks looked similar to certain batarian slave brands. Those brands were usually merely markers of ownership, but these had been done on some twisted genetic level. The medics were baffled, but the first thing that hit Garrus when he saw them was the similarity they had to the bizarre shapes and characters he'd seen on Virmire, on the plinth where Nazara had shown itself to them.

It worried Garrus immensely. Saleon was sick enough to have his talons in lots of bad things, but how - and where - had he gotten a hold of thorian creatures or some of Benezia's asari? What were those marks, and why did they look like Reaper script? The worst part was the thorian zombies in question were salarians, which made Garrus worry there was a third giant brain-eating plant out there somewhere.

He sipped his kaffar quietly, and was just about to start on writing his reports when his omni-tool chimed. "Detective Vakarian, your presence is requested immediately in Medical Investigation Room Six."

Forlan glanced up as he stood. "Issues?"

Garrus shrugged. "Don't know yet. Keep working on that, and if Tel shows up tell her I'm in Med Six." He exited his offices, smoothing down the few wrinkles in his C-SEC uniform as he hustled up the stairs to detention and booking.

Medical Six was one of eight medical pre-processing rooms used by C-SEC in the process of arrest and incarceration. Checks for disease, cyberware, biotics and the like had already been done upon arrival, but more serious medical conditions could also arise. Garrus figured Saleon might have some kind of suicide pill or something up his fringe, but the techs had already checked that.

He arrived, heading down a corridor. He passed Medical Two and saw a sour-looking Saleon being checked by two turians, so that wasn't the issue. Upon reaching room six, he found Executor Palin and two dour looking Spectres, along with the surprising presence of the asari Jiong had rescued on Virmire, Rana Thanoptis.

Garrus slowed upon entering the room, glancing around. "Reporting, Executor."

Palin nodded,and one of the turian Spectre's stepped outside, sealing the door after him. "We have some issues, Garrus, with some of the victims you found. Perhaps Dr. Thanoptis can explain, since I am still reeling from being briefed."

Rana gave Garrus a slightly nervous look. "As you know, I was forced to work with Saren's people on indoctrination. I was turned over to the Council, who have been using my expertise to try and identify indoctrinated victims and continue my work on finding a way to resist or reverse it." She gestured to the body of the turian on the examination table. "Examinations on this person - one Vunath Ikor, a colonist from the Lenal system - tripped certain flags C-SEC installed after my advice. This person is - well, was - indoctrinated."

The turian Spectre behind her folded his arms, his stance pure Deathwatch. "Talath Talid, Office of Special Tactics and Recon. We originally set flags looking for certain kind of brain lesions to identify potential infiltrators. Wasn't expecting to find corpses with the same markers. This is concerning to us because the Hierarchy reported yesterday that they'd lost contact with the colony at Lenal. A Systems Alliance task-force under the command of your old CO, Shepard, jumped in system for some kind of shakedown run and reported the entire system wiped."

Garrus winced. "And now..."

Palin sighed. "Very few people are being informed about these ... Reapers. Fewer still are given additional details regarding indoctrination. It would cause a panic, spirits-be-damned hunts, and chaos. As a result, investigations into Reaper-related activity - or possible tangents - will have to be handled through Special Response - specifically, you and Detective Telanya, since you both already know more about this tark-shit than I do."

He glanced back at the Spectre, who nodded. "For the duration of the emergency - which will end when the Council says it is over - you will be at the disposal of the Spectres to review, investigate and report on these issues. We are not policemen and have few of our number trained in forensic analysis, and none of us have gotten up close and personal like you have."

Palin flicked a mandible. "I know you just got back, but you and Telanya will be headed out again, to cover the site and figure out what you can. Saleon is going into Spectre custody - his brain shows a few of the same lesions, so he's had at least periphial contact at some point."

Rana spoke. "The salarian brain is much more vulnerable to indoctrination than turians, Executor. He may be ... dangerous. To himself and to others."

Palin snorted. "Nothing some nervestim jamming won't fix. For you, Detective, I need you to kit up for a field excursion. Armory is open, take whatever the hell you need. You and Telanya have three days before the Hierarchy plans to torch the site and call it a pirate raid,so make your investigation quick but thorough."

Spectre Talid nodded. "You will be reporting to the Council upon conclusion. We have a vessel standing by. You have two hours to get ready and meet us at Docking Slip 144, Central Dock Ring just outside Bachrjet Ward."

Garrus gave a deep exhalation and nodded. "What about Forlan, sir?"

Palin shrugged. "He can keep working to crack Saleon's notes. We've already forwarded copies to the STG and the human AIS, but no returns yet." He glanced at Rana and the Spectre. "If that's all, I need a moment with my detective in private. We'll be in the next med room over."

He nodded to Vakarian and exited, and Garrus followed, trailing him into the next medroom, which was empty. Palin shut the door behind him.

Garrus knew that expression, he'd seen it on Palin's face whenever someone gave him orders he didn't like. The turian executor was still shaken and not his old self after his near-death at the Citadel Tower, and Garrus figured it wouldn't hurt to be nice for once. "Executor, is everything alright?"

Palin flicked both mandibles in a weak smile. "No, it isn't." He sat down heavily on the examination table. "I suspect the Spectres will be using this to see if you are good material to join their ranks. It's the kind of thing they do. You were close to almost the entire operation Shepard ran, and she's going to be tied up in the human military for a good while."

Garrus nodded. "Will she be in-system when we arrive?"

Palin shook his head. "No. That's ... not what I wanted to talk about, really." He gave Garrus a hard look. "I know you. You're brave, hardheaded, and blunt. You respect only those leaders and traditions you agree with, and your sense of sublimating yourself for the best needs of the Hierarchy is still somewhat lacking."

He held up a hand to forestall any protest. "I'm just saying the truth. You already proved you can follow the rules when you have to. But I want you to watch yourself and Telanya carefully with these damned Spectres. Whatever is going on, we're not being given all the facts, and the thing that kills cops faster than gangs or ambushes is going into dangerous situations without all the information."

Garrus frowned. "You think the Spectres are hiding something?"

Palin nodded. "Yes. I think they - or the Hierarchy - knows something. Keep an open mind when you investigate this colony and remember your report is now going to affect galactic policy, not just generate paperwork and cause me headaches."

Garrus nodded. "As I told Shepard ... maybe a bit more red tape would have prevented Saren from become a traitor to us all."

Palin snorted. "Doubtful. He was a sociopathic lunatic twenty years ago and more. These others aren't much better. Be careful."

Garrus nodded again. "I'll be cautious, and so will Telanya. We didn't survive the last year to get taken out now."

Palin nodded, and handed him an OSD. "This is all the various arrests and interactions we've had where the culprit is, or was suspected of being, indoctrinated. Might help you find a pattern in this mess." He paused and then gave Garrus a turian salute. "Remember, safe. As irritating as you are, training a replacement or listening to Forlan bitching is too much trouble right now.'

Garrus grinned as he left. It wasn't as good as serving with Shepard, but it would give him an excuse to shoot her a message. And Tali, too, he missed needling her.

Telanya might be a bit angry about the sudden departure, but once he mentioned the Reapers she would understand.

He hoped. He didn't need to be lifted biotically again any time soon.

O-ATTWN-O

A word had entered President Windsor's mind at some point during the day, between listening to delegates from Section Five argue for additional funds for soil reclamation in an area where the water table was so irradiated that the replacing the soil would simply leave it irradiated in a month, and the meeting with Ira Bekenstein where the man wanted to actually use Citadel-earmarked funds to start a campaign against 'alien influence'.

Amusingly enough, the word, a hold-over from the internet slang of yesteryear, was 'derp'. It was a perfect description of the idiots agenda he'd been subjected to for most of the day. He'd found himself struggling not to violate his image as a dignified leader of society by simply uttering it repeatedly and storming out of the endless stupidity of a political nature that passed as policy discussion, instead somehow finding the strength of will to endure.

When he got done, he'd literally fled for his office, and had told his bodyguards to kill anyone trying to get in other than his niece. The smirks they'd tried to hide as he left them outside had only made him decide they could sit with him on the next Senate meeting and suffer alongside him rather than stand outside and flirt with passing secretaries.

Speaking of secretaries, there was only so much pointless, self-referential political masturbation and incompetently arrogant presumption he could take in one day, and he was going to have pointed words with his press secretary regarding who and when certain figures were allowed access to his schedule.

He'd cleared his calender of all other appointments, letting them instead deal with Vice President Huerta. The man never did come back quiet right from his near-death experience, and the subtly creepy vibes he gave off usually shut down even the most persistent of lobbyists and 'figures of importance.'

"Recall to me why, again, I decided to take up this particular job, instead of something less stressful and less futile, such as krogan anger councilor? And why was I stupid enough to chose to do so twice?"

Sitting across the room in the Pentagonal Office, his favorite niece only gave him a pleasant smile. "You did so because the other potential candidates were unsuited and bigoted tools of the corporations, Uncle." She adjusted her posture in the chair, and brought out a datapad. "Sadly, I fear I have more complications."

James Windsor sighed, tapping the elegant brass panel on his desk that contained a tasteful haptic panel. "Linda, we will be occupied for the balance of the afternoon. Please inform the Speaker we are currently involved in delicate negotiations, but that we will be available at his leisure tomorrow afternoon."

He clicked off, rubbing his temples with two fingers. "I can only presume there has been a difficulty with Major Shepard's mission. Trouble follows her around like idiocy seems attracted to me."

Elizabeth smoothed her expression free of any humor at her uncle's predicament and merely nodded. "Yes, Uncle. She proceeded to Watson with no difficulty. Upon arriving in the Lenal system, however, they discovered the He3 station destroyed, the colony slaughtered, and dead krogan in a biological research lab designed for krogan use."

Windsor brought up a screen on the wall, reviewing images of the wrecked colony. "A pirate raid?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Shepard's team found signs of multiple weapon types, not typically found in the hands of pirates. Additionally, although all other media at the colony was wiped, they found a single memory wafer with fragmentary data indicating the Shadow Broker was behind the strike. From the context and the lack of a body matching the krogan on the wafer, Shepard believes the krogan was taken by the Broker."

Windsor frowned. "It still makes very little logical sense for the Broker to kill an entire colony, just to get at one krogan."

Elizabeth sighed. "It does, given what else Shepard found. The turian dead were given a quick autopsy to attempt to confirm the weapons used were not pirate models. The examination showed several dozen of them with augmented cyberware similar to that we found in Saren, as well as cerebral lesions associated with the research we recovered on Reaper indoctrination."

Elizabeth pulled up a screen on her datapad and forwarded it to the wall. "I had the AIS FINCIN group look over these transactions, financial moves done in accounts connected to this colony. There was a large transfer of money authorized by one Ganar Okeer a few days ago. This Okeer is likely the krogan Shepard says made the recording she found."

Windsor shook his head. "The name does not mean anything to me."

Elizabeth nodded. "It did not ring any bells with me either, Uncle, but Shepard recognized it. Clan Ganar was involved with Saren, and according to her, it's leader, this Okeer, was likely involved in some way with the krogan-rachni crossbreeds that caused so many casualties on the Citadel. C-SEC has confirmed the krogan mercenaries that caused trouble on the Citadel prior to Benezia's arrival were known associates or members of Clan Ganar as well."

The President rubbed his chin. "The CDEM is doing a remarkably shoddy job of watching the krogan if lunatics of this sort can go traipsing over space in such a bold fashion. Why haven't Citadel authorities arrested this Okeer or his confederates?"

She shut off her pad. "Bribes, I suspect. That, and Okeer tends to operate out of the Terminus Systems. We are not sure if the Shadow Broker's assault was tasked with simply kidnapping Okeer, or killing two birds with one stone and taking out a colony of indoctrinated turians. My own concern is the fact that an Ashland-Eldfell HE3 mining facility with forty seven humans on board was also destroyed with no survivors."

Windsor grimaced. "Covering his tracks, no doubt. It is a provocation that I will not ignore, although I fear I am hardly conversant on the actions the Broker takes. That is more something to discuss with Prince Aloxius – who I do not wish aware of my current plans for Shepard." He steepled his fingers in thought for long seconds. "What is Shepard doing now?"

"Holding position and awaiting the turian authorities."

He cursed, tapping his panel again. "Linda, send a message to the Minister of State, letting him know that we desire his advice and conversation as soon as possible. And that this is not in regards to our conversation earlier today." He clicked off. "The Hierarchy will undoubtedly be unamused. For the Broker to act so openly and with such violence indicates we stumbled across something we were not meant to see."

Elizabeth nodded. "That is the conclusion Shepard reached – if they'd arrived a day later, the scene would have looked almost exactly like a pirate attack. There would have been some awkward questions regarding the krogan found on planet, but that would just send any investigators onto wild tangents."

She paused. "Uncle, you had me update Shepard's orders to perform weapons testing in the Lenal system without telling me why. They could have done the tests in Watson. You spoke of Cerberus activity in or near Lenal … but what source did you have?"

Windsor gave his niece a hard look before glancing away. "I received a communication from an unknown source. Whoever it was knew my own plans for Shepard, which I'd only discussed with you, my wife, and the Fleet Master in full. The source knew exactly when the Kazan would be ready, and suggested having Shepard check out Lenal, because there was something hidden there that Cerberus knew of, but that it had to be done in a narrow window of time."

Elizabeth frowned. "And you acted on it? Risked Shepard on unknown intelligence? That is … very unlike you, Uncle."

Windsor sighed. "My best techs couldn't even tell me how the message got routed. It literally appeared in my personal comm queue. No routing. No source. Nothing but a cryptic message. Anyone who can penetrate our systems that fully is extremely dangerous. And possibly very useful."

He smiled. "I cannot fully trust the AIS, and I would rather go to the batarians for aid than trust Prince Aloxius for a heartbeat. The manner in which Cerberus collapsed, and the AIS investigation of what Shepard found, seems to highlight the possibility that the source was a disaffected Cerberus survivor who was attempting to be .. helpful."

Elizabeth gave this several seconds of thought. "But who?"

Windsor gave a flickering smile. "It was kept very quiet, but we learned some time ago that the leader of Cerberus, the Illusive Man, faked his own suicide and is alive. It was he who pointed Shepard in the direction of Noveria. And I believe it was he who sent me this … tidbit."

He stood, turning to stare out the heavy armaglass windows of the Pentagonal Office over Champions Park and the Tomb of Victor Manswell. "I cannot refuse aid – even that of a criminal such as this Illusive Man – when I am trapped by the bars of both law and tradition, Eliza. I do not trust him. But twice he has provided information that has lead to us discovering more about the situation than we knew."

Elizabeth shrugged. "If it is him. And what do we learn from this, aside from the fact that there may be more indoctrinated forces out there?"

Windsor sighed. "That the Shadow Broker is interested in whatever Okeer was working on and is willing to risk hostilities with both the Systems Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy to get it. Given that Okeer was tied up with Saren, that is a fell concept. If I distrust the Illusive Man, that goes double for the Shadow Broker, notwithstanding his assistance in the hunt for Saren or that of his soldiers on the Citadel."

Elizabeth shrugged. "What should we have Shepard do?"

Windsor was silent before shaking his head. "She is ill equipped to handle this sort of problem, and frankly I need her trained as quickly as possible. Have her go ahead and depart for Pinnacle Station immediately. I'm sure she would appreciate time to get her bearings, not to mention find housing, but time is of the essence. Inform Admiral Ahern she will be incoming shortly."

She nodded, even as his check chimed. "I'm very sorry to disturb you, Your Majesty, but I have an incoming priority communication from the Turian Hierarchy – Primarch Fedorian. He has already spoken with Minister Bekenstein and is , ah, upset?"

Windsor sighed. "We will handle the Primarch, Linda. Transfer him to signal line two, please." He glanced up at Eliza. "I despise my job at times."

His niece only laughed as she rose to leave. "And you have another term to go, Uncle!"

O-ATTWN-O

Shepard found that eating in the ship's wardroom with her officers was an interesting experience, especially since they had real food and not recycled protein slop purporting itself as Salisbury steak.

The wardroom was a small eating area roughly the size of the eating area on the Normandy, but designed only for the officers. Liara sat to her right, Pressly to her left, and the rest were arranged by rank, leaving Ensign Traynor at the far end.

The food was actually pretty good, although Shepard admitted to herself that she was hardly a food connisieur. Tali, of course, made due with some kind of dextro-compatible ground shake in a heavy bottle she consumed through a straw, but seemed pleased with it's taste. She had to give the chef extra praise for thinking of the quarian.

Conversation had fallen silent after rather short discussion about differences in seafood in asari and human cuisine. Colms was the first person to break the silence, his voice cool and precise despite the slight slurring of vowels from his Arcturus accent. "Given our discoveries in Lenal, Major, what can we expect to happen next?"

Shepard chewed her food and swallowed before speaking. "We just got our updated orders, and as soon as the shift changes, we're punching out for Pinnacle Station for command training. There's an AIS cruiser on it's way in with some C-SEC investigators to go over this mess."

Assistant Engineer Casey Patrick gave an indelicate snort. "Translation, it's a class-A clusterfuck an' we'd best be about elsewhere, seen?"

She smiled. "Pretty much, Mr. Patrick." She turned back to Colms. "The weapons test was completed satisfactorily?"

The man nodded, his narrow features set in thoughtful lines. "Very much so, Major. A single torpedo vaporized an asteroid some three miles in diameter with little more than gravel-sized fragments left behind, almost twenty percent of the asteroid completely vaporized. Impact analysis modeling shows if my torpedo design hits a turian dreadnaught, we can expect a near kill if we can hit the core section or the engines." He paused. "I still have not had a chance to model Silaris armor or salarian reactive shielding, of course."

Doctor Sedanya picked at her food. "Surely such weapons won't need to be used against our allies, Mr. Colms? After all, the SA was recently admitted to the Council."

Colms fixed her with a cool look. "I doubt such hostilities will break out, but it will always be better to be safe than to be sorry, Doctor. Pirates have shown great abilities in obtaining mil-spec armor and defensive systems, and the criminals of the Terminus under Omega have several vessels boasting Silaris armor. We cannot assume that we will never encounter high-end defenses in our own tasking, after all."

The doctor gave a nod, with a hand movement of siari unity. "Of course, Mr. Colms. I suppose it is much the same as with high-end neurotoxic cancer treatments, those are often tested on krogan and vorcha, the most resistant factors."

Shepard shot Liara a look, and the asari just smirked. Colms and Sedanya's intellectual sniping at one another had gone on earlier when it came to the properties of fish, and was continuing now. Before it escalated further, Shepard spoke up. "I'm just glad the things worked the way they should. Any other problems with the shakedown?"

Traynor, Tali, and Liara shook their head, while Colms merely returned to his food after a muttered 'no'. Doctor Sedanya spoke quietly. "No, Major, the medbay is very well equipped. Your supply officer did a masterful job of making sure we were actually overstocked on everything we needed."

Cole, at the end of the table next to Traynor, nodded. "I'll second that. I mean, it's still the standard SA crap, but we have extra medpacks, grenades, and tons of mods. Plus enough spares and backups that we don't have to scrimp when it comes to a fight. The boys in Alpha and Charlie are a bit jealous of all the fancy guns Beta has, though."

Dallas gave a small grin. "Don't worry about that too much. I have my ways, and I will make sure you guys are ready for whatever comes."

Shepard gave an approving nod to this before turning to Pressly. "Who has the deck right now?"

Pressly swallowed his food. "Navigator Jackson. She needs the experience, she's even more hesitant than Friggs was. I'm not too worried, Joker's still on watch."

Shepard smirked. "That worries me more, actually." She ate the last bite of steak before pushing her plate away. "Alright, boys and girls. Tomorrow is a big day, we dock at Pinnacle and start getting the Kazan and Battle Group Chiron together. I've drawn up a drill schedule for all watch sections. I'm setting open leave and they can use shuttles to head down to Inter'sai on the weekends, but the rest of the time I want them training and drilling."

She turned to Pressly. "It's likely that I will be tied up a lot. So will Liara and Tali, since they haven't had formal SA training and supposedly Ahern will be handling that too. You'll have to keep tabs on a lot of moving parts while we're docked."

Pressly shrugged. "No problem, ma'am. I'll look over the watch schedule and make sure the NCO's and division seconds keep things running smoothly."

She nodded, glancing down the table. "Mr. Patrick, Ms. Scott , you will have to keep an eye on engineering and science, respectively. You come very highly recommended, Mr. Patrick. The Chief of NavEng said the only reason you weren't promoted to Lieutenant Commander and made Chief was due to my meddling getting Tali the job. I didn't intend to cut you off, so as long as we make a good showing when it comes time for final inspect, I'll chalk that up to you and recommend you get your promotion at the very least."

The man actually looked embarrassed. "Veina, that'd be a touch o' class, Major. I canna say it'd be all on me own shoulders, yonder lass is hardly the sort of idjit NavEng has been throwing my direction ta train the past few years. But ye won't have a squeak of trouble out of the Engineering department, or ye'll need to find some new crew as I throw 'em out the airlock."

She snorted. "Just what I wanted to hear, Mr. Patrick." She turned to Colms. "As for you, Mr. Colms, I think a careful review of what options Pinnacle's docks will offer for our battlegroups destroyers and frigates should be under your purview. The destroyers are scrap and the frigates are crap. Determine how to best outfit them and submit it to me, from what I've been told BuShips will sign off on it gladly."

Colms narrowed his eyes. "Do we have an operation budget for this … refit?"

She smirked. "If someone suggests we do, feel free to inform them they can argue about it with me."

He said nothing for a moment before a flicker of a smile crossed his features. "Well, that is one method for removing idiots from the gene pool, I suppose. I will have my recommendations drawn up as soon as I can review the ships in person."

Liara finished her food and glanced at Shepard. "You said Tali and I are going to be .. training with you?"

Shepard shrugged. "I'm afraid I wasn't given a lot of details. I know Admiral Ahern by … reputation only."

Cole nodded. "Hell, who doesn't? He was in charge of the most dangerous combat team in history. Uh, no offense to your own team, Shepard."

Shepard snorted. "He had Major Kyle on his team, along with Admiral Chu, the woman who trained me, Rachel Florez, and the most lethal sniper in history, Michael Saracino. They could have mopped the floor with Neutron, or with the guys I took down Saren with."

Sedanya frowned. "Saracino...isn't that the name of that .. thug in charge of Terra Firma?"

Shepard nodded. "Yeah, his son, I think. Michael Saracino at least had good reasons to hate turians, given the ugly nature of the First Contact War. His kid is just walking shit in a suit."

Casey snorted. "An jus how is that different from most of tha rest, selah? The lot of them are like a bag full of shite."

Shepard shook her head. "I don't know. The President was very much … far more than I expected."

Casey swigged water. "Bah. He's a prince o'the blood, not some money-snuffling wretch with his 'ead up his arse."

Sedanya glanced over at Jiong. "The Commissariat has no issues with the low opinion your men have of the government?"

Jiong wiped his mouth before giving her a narrow smile."Generally speaking, the Commissariat does not punish those who merely speak blatant truth. I fear I must agree with the … colorful … opinion of Mr. Patrick – Michael Saracino can, perhaps, be forgiven his racism, but Charles Saracino is disgraceful."

Shepard smirked again. "I think that's it for the night, folks. I'm done. Liara, I need to see you in my stateroom for a few minutes about some of the sensor upgrades I want done at Pinnacle." She rose from the table, and departed.

By the time she'd headed to her quarters, brushed her teeth, and crossed the hall to the stateroom, Liara was already waiting. "Are you ready for tomorrow, Sara?"

Shepard smirked. "Not yet. But I managed to make sure my quarters are sound isolated, so you can help me get ready."

Liara gave her a look of mixed worry and … arousal? Shepard felt a lot of things burst across the bond at that moment. "I … we must be very careful until we announce our plans, Sara..."

Shepard nodded. "I know. But I tested it earlier, I was screaming at the top of my lungs and Dallas couldn't even hear me right out side the door."

Liara laughed, and then pulled Shepard over to her, kissing her lips gently. "In that case..."

O-ATTWN-O

Arriving at Pinnacle station early in the morning, Shepard flexed her back to work the kinks out. Liara's cool presence sleeping alongside her for four hours had been more reassuring and refreshing than eight hours of sleep without her.

The activities beforehand also cleared Shepard's head of distractions.

Now freshly showered (and bandaged) and dressed in full dress whites, she stood on the bridge as the Kazan finished docking with the bulk of Pinnacle Station, in high orbit over the garden world of Inter'sai.

The station was a typical class two construction – a long tube pierced with broad bands of windows, with spars on either side to facilitate docking and a sphere shape at one end with more windows. Heavy weapons and GARDIAN trails shadowed it's center, while arrays of space defenses floated in a serene ring around the planet itself.

The board showed a clear docking connection, and Shepard tapped the 1MC. "All hands, we are now docked. This is a training assignment, so the drill and GMT rotation will be quite heavy, but liberty is set for the ship at 1800 each day, ending at 0600 in the morning. On the weekends, we'll go to two-section watches so you guys can take liberty on Inter'sai itself."

She paused. "This is going to be hard training for everyone, including me. I expect each and everyone of you to push yourself and take advantage of this. Not very many ships, much less entire battlegroups, get refitted and trained here. Use this time to improve yourself and make me proud, Kazan."

"VI, log the time – Major-Commander Shepard is going ashore. Commander Pressly has nominal command, authorization by me."

She clicked off, turning to see Tali standing next to Liara. "Alright, gang. I'm supposed to report directly to Admiral Ahern, and for some reason he said he wanted you two to tag along. He already sounds like an asshole, and I've only spoken with him for five seconds. Let's get this over with quickly."

Liara and Tali nodded, and Shepard took the elevator down with them to deck four, stepping off to enter the boarding tube. At the far end of the airlock connecting her ship to the station was a massive security door, which hissed open with equalizing pressure.

A pair of SA Marines, uniforms perfect, stood at parade rest in the boarding tunnel to the station. They snapped to attention as one when Shepard approached. "Major-Commander, ma'am! The Admiral of the Station presents his complements and requests you join him with your entourage on deck sixteen, his offices."

She returned the salute. "At ease. Thank you, Sergeant. As we are unfamiliar with the station, I would be pleased if you lead the way."

"Of course, Major. Please follow me." The leftmost figure swiveled on his heel in a perfect about face and lead them down the docking tube into the station proper.

Pinnacle Station's central tube was lined with ugly, narrow buildings inside, connected with mag-lift walkways and a handful of air-cars. The sergeant lead them to one such aircar, a plain black model of human instead of asari design, and took the drivers seat.

Accelerating away from the docking area, Shepard looked out. The tube was at least a half-mile across, buildings built into the side of the tube. Heavy machinery lines, omnifoundries and open docks devoted to refitting ships dominated nearly half the tube, while large plazas covered with hundreds of drilling marines took up most of the rest.

The aircar entered a hexagonal tunnel set into the far wall of the tube, speeding along a traffic lane with but a few other cars in it. "This is the connector between the manufactory, refit, and marine training areas to the habitation core of the base, ma'am."

She nodded absently. Liara glanced over. "Is the spherical section set up like Arcturus Station, then?"

The marine laughed. "I am afraid not, ma'am. More like the Lower Wards of the Citadel." The aircar emerged and Shepard saw what he meant.

The sphere was mostly covered in five to six story towers, apartments and crammed together re-purposed arcology kits. In some places, actual colony module stacks had been hard-welded to the hull in piles a hundred feet tall, linked by mass-effect driven elevators. A fourth of the sphere jutted inwards, long dark lines of windows covering it's surface, the only entrance a massive fortified gate with heavy kinetic shielding and thick metallic barriers. Turrets tracked them as they set down in a courtyard painted with the Alliance 'A' and the aircar split open, disgorging them.

"This is Pinnacle Command, ma'am. The front desk will provide additional directions." Shepard nodded to the marine and headed off, glancing around. The landing pad was flanked by several courtyards, all of which were filled with white-shirted drill instructors barking abuse and instruction down on human recruits.

Tali looked around then folded her hands behind her back as she followed. "What is this place?"

Shepard smiled. "When a marine gets enough experience to move up in the ranks and serve time in the space side forces, they have to complete special training – zero-g combat, understanding alien races, mixed terrain training, stuff like that. Pinnacle is one of the places they get trained at. Officers come here for training as well – combat, tactics, political training, other stuff too."

She reached the heavy entry portal. Above the frosted glass doors was a mosaic made of shattered pieces of Marine armor, some bloodied and some merely tinted, spelling out a grim message.

"The more you bleed in peace, the less like you are to bleed to death in war."

Liara eyed the message and then coughed. "Well, that is certainly … encouraging?"

Shepard opened the doors, stepping inside. The lobby beyond was the harshest sort of military décor – absolutely pure white walls framed with blue trim, the SA logo defecated over every possible surface as if it were a deranged shrine. Thin blue carpet, worn in a few places, flanked by black steel decking and a pair of grim portraits against the far wall – Victor Manswell and Jon Grissom.

A broad metal desk, it's center twisted into a sphere bearing the SA logo, was manned by a pair of young-looking female ensigns, who both looked up as Shepard, Liara,and Tali entered.

"Welcome to Pinnacle Training Command, Major-Commander. The Admiral is waiting for you, the elevators will take you to floor sixteen." She handed each of them a thin plastic badge. "Please clip these to your uniform – we require positive location tracking on personnel within the building at all times." She paused. "The admiral can be a bit … intense. Just so you know."

Shepard clipped it on with a sigh, and headed for the elevator. The trip up was done in silence – Shepard, lost in though; Liara worried about if she was going to be a distraction or hindrance to Shepard; Tali, unsure if she was going to be training in how to fight or being an engineer or something else entirely.

The elevator let them out onto a short and narrow hallway, leading to a single pair of double doors in metal. The nameplate next to them read "ADM TRADIUS AHERN, CO PINTRNCOM"

Shepard exhaled and pushed the doors open, stepping beyond, followed by Tali and Liara.

The office they entered had a spartan feel to it. A section was elevated towards the back right corner, a desk and several haptic screens flanking a portal looking out over the base. The other corner contained a tall series of shelves filled with the sort of detritus officers picked up in a long career – commendations, shadow boxes full of medals, a turian claw knife, a slightly bent asari warp sword.

The lower section of the office was wide, flanked by two sectional couches and dominated by the man standing in the middle of it. He was of indeterminate age – his features were tight and cold. A hard, sharp jaw and a thin mouth set off his narrowed blue eyes. A few wrinkles and a long scar marred his features, his red-blond hair cut in a perfect marine high-and-tight, a few strands of gray along the edge near the temples.

His body was clearly hard and defined, thick pectorals and rippling biceps visible even under the thick leather and cloth of his dress blues. His uniform was set off by the two red ribbons around his neck, the giant block of decorations down his left chest, and the small black seashell proudly mounted to his belt buckle. Liara gasped at the last, and Shepard recognized it as well – the Black Remembrance, the highest award the Asari Republic could give. Easily a match for the two Stars of Terra around the man's neck.

The man glanced at all three of them before speaking. "Major-Commander Shepard. I am Admiral of the Red Tradius Ahern, commander of Pinnacle Training Command and Pinnacle Station. This station is designed as the finishing course for all command officers. I have personally trained nineteen admirals, eleven generals, forty eight captains and sixty seven majors. Out of the one hundred and forty something N7 graduates we have in our military, ninety eight of them were trained by me. Pinnacle Station is devoted to taking the best aspects of human, asari, turian, salarian and even batarian military methods and producing the next generation of excellence."

She nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm glad to be here."

He glared. "You won't be for long, and yet you will be once I'm done with you. You have been forwarded here for me to fix whatever the damn hell is wrong with you and slap your crews into something at least resembling a SA task force rather than a shambolic fuckup of proportions rivaling a vorcha placed in charge of operating a nursery. You have issues, Shepard, but I'll fix those."

His eyes flicked over Liara and Tali. "You two. Lieutenant Commander Liara T'Soni and Lieutenant Commander Tali'Zorah nar Normandy, or I suppose nar Kazan now. You are here because neither of you know the first fucking thing about proper soldiering and yet you are now senior officers aboard a SA cruiser. Since I seem to have offended someone by pointing out that a pair of civilian teenagers is hardly fit to serve as such, I get to train you two as well."

Shepard grimaced. "With all due respect, Admiral – "

He held up a hand. "Whenever I hear that goddamned phrase I want to find the person who first thought it was 'respectful' and introduce my knee to his face. We both know it really means 'stick it up your ass sir', so let's be direct, shall we? I hate bullshit and so do you, and I really don't have the time for it. I don't give a fuck if you killed Saren and Benezia, or if these two helped. The only goddamned reason any of your team survived this entire nightmare of an operation is that clearly Saren and Benezia were too busy laughing their asses off to take you seriously."

He stepped closer. "I've read the reports, Shepard. You nearly got your ass handed to you on Noveria because you didn't wear a fucking helmet. What kind of GODDAMNED MORON fights the most dangerous Spectre in space with no fucking helmet!?"

She actually found herself stepping back. "I – "

"You will shut the fuck up as I pin your goddamned ears back so maybe common sense will penetrate your thick skull, Shepard. You nearly got taken out rescuing Doctor I'm-too-pretty-to-wear-real-armor here on Therum because you let yourself goof off at the end of the rescue. You nearly bought it again on Feros because you were idiotic enough to challenge a Spectre AND a matriarch war priestess at the same fucking time as you were surrounded by plant zombies. You could have died on Eingana, where you _knew _even a single breach of your armor would leave you or whoever else got wounded fucked."

He sighed in disgust. "I won't even mention the stupidity you pulled in that last fight with Benezia. Talking shit instead of just shooting Benezia in the head? Not being aware of your target and getting stabbed like a clown?"

Turning back to Liara and Tali, his expression was less angry. "At least you two have the excuse of not being a highly trained N7 soldier, but frankly, you both suck. If it was up to me you two would be spending the next six weeks in basic, but it isn't, so you get to suffer along side Shepard."

He gestured to the couch. "Now, sit your asses down."

Shepard was working hard not to explode at this asshole, stomping over to the couch. She'd bled and suffered after being betrayed over and over again by the SA. She'd proven herself a dozen times over, in training, in making it through the N7 program,in carrying out her duty as a Spectre. Liara had bled and risked her life more than once, Tali had nearly died twice.

Liara carefully placed a hand on Shepard's arm. "Shepard...he may be using rather … crude and insulting language, but I do not think we would have been sent here unless someone thought he could help us all improve. Being angry with him will not help."

Ahern folded his arms and stood in front of them, matching Shepard's glare with his own. "Hell, she can get angry all she wants to, girl. I've survived shit that would make you faint just to read about it. I went up against two hundred turians on a fortress world with four other humans. No biotics, no fancy info-war bullshit, no augmented armor, not even fucking medigel. And we survived. You know how?"

He ticked off his fingers. "Precision. Discipline. Training. And not being arrogant."

She finally exploded. "Admiral, I thought I came here for you to train me to command, not insult me. You and I have different fighting styles, but I don't need someone telling me how to – "

He laughed in her face. "You are really something. You think Torfan blew up on you because you're good? You got those men killed because you're an arrogant little thug."

Pain and fury exploded across her mind, the admirals words echoing the taunts thrown at her so many

years ago by General Tyrson right after Kyle's sons had died.

"_Don't be stupid, Shepard. The SA had needs, and you were it's tool, but no one will know that. They'll just think you got them all killed because you're an arrogant little thug."_

She saw red. She came up out of the chair in a leap, using her biotics to accelerate as she swung her fist at him.

The next thing she knew, she was on the floor, Liara and Tali hovering over her, and her back felt like it had been broken. She wiped blood from her nose and stared up woozily.

"...the shit...?"

Liara's face was set in slightly angry lines. "You … well, you leapt at the Admiral and he disabled you with a single blow."

Tali nodded. "And then had a drink."

Admiral Ahern stood behind them, a glass of something in his hand. "Normally, assaulting a superior officer is cause for rebuke, court martial, and all of that. But I like you, Shepard. You at least have fire, if not any goddamned skill worth spit. Ladies, get her on the couch, please."

Liara hefted Shepard with a grunt, easing her back on to the opposite couch from the one they were originally sitting on. Ahern waited until that was done to continue. "Now, this time, shut up and listen, Shepard."

She gritted her teeth, but the man's method of dealing with her had echos of Rachel Florez in it. She exhaled and glared back. "I'm listening, sir."

He sipped his drink. "Your problem is that you are terribly arrogant and sloppy. You and your team of aliens and marines accomplished a very great deed,I'll be happy to admit that. You took out a psycho bastard who I've wanted to kill for twenty years and managed to survive two battles with an asari matriarch. I'm not dismissing your achievements, or the fact that these two helped with that even having little training."

He finished his drink , setting it aside on the little table in front of the couch. "But don't confuse that with being at the level you should be at, Shepard. Most N7's have a few more years under their belt and a better grounding in the basics. They have a good understanding of what they can and more importantly cannot do. And they have had the arrogance and the idea they were invincible badasses beaten out of them. You, on the other hand, came out of the Penal Legions."

He snorted in disgust. "The Legion trains bullet sponges, not soldiers. They don't teach you proper war-fighting, but the kind of macho bullshit twentieth century armies did. Attrition warfare. Half-ass tactics. Rachel Florez fought at my side and was one of the most incredible soldiers I've known, but she was training a force to be throwaway fodder, not the next generation of the SA military. Instead of having a proper grounding in how to be a soldier, you ended up having a sloppy version of it flung over some biotics."

She could hardly object to that, and he continued. "Forget teaching you command, they just expected you to die in piles. You were just tough enough and stupid enough not to, so they let you get into the regular military, but no one took the time to fix the fuckups in your training – you were too angry to see them, and the SA used your hatred and image as a tool. You used plans to sacrifice your men because you were never taught the kind of tactics to use that would have let you avoid such things, and no one fixed THAT because some rear echelon fucker with more stars than brains sent you off to Torfan to die, and after that no one gave enough of a shit."

He began to pace, eyes intense. "They threw you into the grinder of being a Spectre, and you survived, but I've seen the vids. You lived because you were too crazy and goddamned angry to die, not because of skill, forethought, or tactical planning. Your own combat abilities are shit because you cheat. You use your fancy ass biotic pogo stick to get close before an enemy can react, stun them with a nova, and turn them to soup with that boom-stick you use. You can use a pistol and a sniper, but your ability to actually think like a sniper is for shit, too."

He sighed. "You mastered the skill-sets according to manuals to prove you were the best, but without the actual grounding and context they required to make you successful. You're smart, you have good instincts, and you have a natural skill at small-scale space combat, but you lack focus, Shepard."

He folded his arms. "Little things – like not bringing a helmet, or not thinking about what you do when your biotics are cut off – will get you killed. You use your biotics as a crutch, not a weapon. You react with them, but you don't use them as a force multiplier. Every vid or report about your biotics gushes on and on about the kanquess and your warp, but your biotics is supposed to be there to support your combat, not be the center of it. You rely on it too much and one day a fucker with a phase dissipator is going to ruin you."

Shepard grimaced at that, remembering just how close she'd come to death in that Cerberus HQ with Rachel.

Liara gave a small nod to his words. "What you speak of sounds similar to concepts my early instructors spoke of."

Ahern gave her a look before nodding. "That's because asari commandos use every goddamned weapon they can to bring the enemy down. Biotics, info-war, dirty tricks – saw one take out a batarian by gutting a wounded turian and flinging the blood into the batarian's eyes. They know a fight isn't about how flashy you are, or bullshit like screaming as you charge into a pack of geth, but dropping the enemy."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well that's just fucking great. I've spent half my life training to be the best I can, and now you tell me it's all shit."

Ahern sighed. "It's not all shit. But as long as you keep up this … attitude ... about assuming you can beat everything you run into, one of these days you will hit a target that doesn't make stupid mistakes and will become a nice inscription on a tombstone somewhere."

"The other problem that needs fixing is your anger. You just tried to fucking attack an admiral. Do I need to repeat how stupid that is?"

She glanced away. "I apologize...I was – "

Ahern rolled his eyes. "I don't give a shit that it happened, Shepard. You are way too sloppy to land a hit on me. If I bitchslapped Saren out of my face twenty years ago, I can damn well sure take you even now. The problem is you let that anger fuck with your ability to think."

She thought back to her last fight with Rachel.

_"Pathetic. All that training, cross training. Preparation. Studying. For what? A barely in control, bloodthirsty little bitch. Just a Tenth Street Red in a soldier's clothes." _

She sighed. "I .. I know I have issues with it. The anger. I've … worked hard to keep it under control, to prevent it from messing me up. But it's powered me through all the … crap … I have had to endure. It's not easy just .. not getting angry."

Ahern grunted. "Shepard, if anyone has a reason to be pissed the fuck off, it's you. I'm not saying you don't have the right, and I'm certainly not going to defend the shitpile the SA has turned into in the past ten years." He shook his head. "But anger and blind rage make you incapable of reasoning, of planning, of using most of the training you've put yourself through. It makes you weaker, not stronger."

Ahern glanced back at Tali and Liara. "Your problems are different. You may be a badass biotic, but you don't have a sense of tactical positioning yet. In every fight I see, the only thing you really focus on is following and protecting Shepard, and you only cut loose when she gets hurt. You have a few anger problems yourself, if you ask me. Let's not get started on the stupidity of going around in armor without full damage coverage on all joints."

Liara winced. "In my defense, Admiral, I was given the duty of picking the armor we used on the mission and I had little experience with such details."

Ahern shook his head again. "If you're so goddamned smart, Doctor, then you should know the first thing you do if you don't get it is ask for help. A trained soldier wouldn't have made that armor choice."

Liara hesitated. "But I did ask for help, from … a former member of Shepard's N7 strike team. Beatrice Shields."

Shepard shot her a look. "Bea told you that armor was good?" She was going to have to speak with her about that – Bea definitely knew better.

Ahern interrupted. "Jesus fuck, Shepard, you didn't stop her from wearing the shit either. Arrogance. Now be quiet, I'm bitching at the asari" He turned back to Liara. "You need a lot of basics. You and Miss Zorah. Not just how to fight or how to command, but a good grounding on how to protect yourselves in a fight so Shepard doesn't have to charge in to try to save you."

Tali nodded. "I've been nervous about my ability for a while, Admiral...the Migrant Fleet Marines gave me a few basics, but .. I was never planning on joining a professional military force."

Ahern examined her closely for almost a full five seconds before speaking. "You at least are honest with yourself about your skill. That's the first step to becoming better. I think your problem is the same as most of the Migrant Fleet Marines I've seen – you rely too much on toys. Turrets, info-war bullshit, drones. You need a new skillset, young lady, something that I can't ever praise too much, the joys of the art of the grenade. That, and a few evasion techniques."

He turned away from them, moving across the room to sprawl on the other couch. "Shepard, I don't give a shit if you call me Admiral or 'you bastard'. I have zero use for formality and while I am a hard ass about regulations, those are only there to provide discipline for those who can't do it for themselves. The whole reason you are here is to learn how not to embarrass the SA or get yourself killed."

He tapped his omnitool and a haptic video screen emerged in midair, displaying a schedule. "Personally, I think the SA is more likely to be an embarrassment _to_ you, but knowing the ins and outs of the political fuckery, scheming and backstabbing that happens at a command level is a necessary evil. Simplest way to do it is every time you want to hit someone in the mouth, smile at them. Every time you want to call someone a dick, tell them they have an interesting perspective. And every time you are considering setting the room on fire, suggest a small break since you need to take an important call."

He gestured to the screen. "You are going to be here for a total of six weeks. Five of those weeks are needed to refit that pile of wreckage they gave you instead of an actual fleet, and to fix everything fucked up with you and your team. Your crews are fragmented crap and will work together about as well as krogan and salarians at this point, so they will being drilled, trained, and cycled until they ship up or I have them shot in sheer outrage and give you replacements from some other ships."

He tapped the image, the month scaling down to weeks. "Your subordinate officers are not going to escape my notice either. Your Commissar forwarded me the PRIDE reports of your officer cadre, with some of the sections for LTC T'Soni and LTC Tali redacted."

Shepard nodded. "And?"

Ahern sighed. "I am going to have to replace my shoes, because I'm going to have to put my foot up quite a few asses. I never met your Master Chief Cole, but I doubt he wants his son to be a goddamned martyr. Your Supply Officer makes me pissed just reading his report, and your wallflower of an comm officer is as soft as volus shit. I _have _worked with that freak Colms before, and I am going to knock the stupid out of that kid this time or strangle him. Your pilot needs a challenge to remind him he's not God's gift to flying, I have some scenarios for him to try if he thinks he's such a badass."

Tali stiffened. "Joker is the best pilot I've seen. He's up to anything."

Ahern actually chuckled. "Has a fan club, does he? We'll see. If he doesn't, I'm interested to see if we can't knock some arrogance out of him as well." He tapped the planner again. "But most of my time will be spent on you, Shepard."

"We will operate on a six day work week. I expect you ready for action at 0700 and we'll knock off at 1900. Twelve hour days. I'm no spring chicken, so I will have to let some of my co-trainers and subordinates do some of it, but I'll be watching the entire time."

"Mondays , Wednesdays, and Fridays are tactical and combat training, a mix of physical conditioning, simulated combat, sparring, and learning how to USE your biotics instead of fling them around. I'm not biotic. I can't teach you how to refine your skills. But I can teach you how to use each power you have in a tactical fashion."

"Tuesday is command tactics training, where you will learn about space combat, fleet positioning, and the like. I will be taking you through a series of simulated battles, teaching you the concepts behind them, and then letting you develop your own style against me and other commanders here. This station was designed to explore the lessons learned from the turians, salarians, and asari, and we'll cover alien fleet tactics as well."

"Thursday is command political training. You will go over the chain of command, your position, and the sort of things we don't explain to anyone under the rank of Captain or Major. Some of it will piss you off, and some of it will make you hate the SA, but I'll also explain why we have to do it. Half that time will also be spent with my own political officer, Commissar-Major Tanaka, who will be briefing and working with your own political officer."

"Saturday is team combat training. You'll pick an unlucky detachment from your marine regiment, or else three lucky contestants from your officer cadre, and the day will be spent in small unit command and the proper use of info-war techniques, infiltration, and combined arms. I know that you have spent the last year fighting with these two, so I figure I'll spend one Saturday seeing if you three are all talk or not."

"Sunday is a day off. Do whatever the shit you like. "

He turned to Liara and Tali. "Your schedules will be much the same, except on Tuesday and Thursday. On those days I will hand you over to my station science officer and chief engineer, who will train you in specifics to your jobs. You are not professional soldiers...yet I expect you to act like it. That means if you get hurt, I expect you to let me know so we can alter the schedule, and if someone is being a racist asshat, let me know so I can throw someone out an airlock. I have zero bullshit tolerance, and if the SA saw fit to commission you two, it's not my place to disagree, just to make sure you actually can do the job those rank hashes say you can."

Ahern folded his arms. "Questions, Shepard?"

She frowned. "You said five weeks. What about the sixth?"

He laughed. "Let's see if you actually survive five weeks first, marine. I have a little wager I'd like to propose if you do, but there's no point going into it now." He glanced at the steel chrono on his wrist.

"It's still early, but I have a full day of bureaucratic horseshit to deal with before we can start. Head down to the eighth floor and request an officer stateroom assignment, unless you were planning to stay on the Kazan."

Shepard made a show of looking at Liara. "T'Soni?"

Liara shrugged. "My rooms aboard the Kazan are fine."

Tali nodded. "Mine are good, also."

Ahern shrugged. "Whatever. Make sure you report to the front desk at 0700 tomorrow for us to get started." He paused. "And Shepard."

"Yes, sir?"

He smiled. "If you ever take a swing at me again outside of training, I'll break your fucking spine. Are we clear, marine?"

She found herself impressed by the sheer steel in his gaze and voice. She wasn't scared of shit, but at least he could demand her respect. "Clear, sir. As I said... I was completely out of line and I apologize for my disorderly actions."

Ahern nodded. "As long as it never happens again, it never happened at all. Besides, you'll get plenty of opportunities to try and fail to hit me when we spar, so cheer up." He made a flicking motion with his hands. "Dismissed, begone, whatever. I have senators to fellate and budgets to cry over."

She saluted, followed a moment later by Liara and Tali, and he returned it before turning away. Exhaling sharply, she glanced at Liara and Tali before leaving.

When they got to the elevator, Shepard struck the wall angrily. "Dammit."

Liara gently stroked her back. "Sara...you do not usually … act so upset."

She shook her head. "I lost it because something he said was something... I heard before." She hit the elevator's wall again. "It's stupid and it just reinforces what I've worried about being all this time. A no-account thug."

Liara's face clouded with hurt and despair, feeling what Shepard felt. "Sara. Look at me." A hard note had come into her voice, and Shepard turned her head to face her.

"You are not worthless, or a thug. You know that. You have proven that. The words the Admiral used were hard, and he does not understand all the pain you have suffered. But if he is right about being able to fix any perceived flaws you have, should you not focus on continuing to improve, as you have in the past? On proving to him and everyone else you are no … thug?"

Tali nodded, her voice a touch angry. "He can insult me all he likes, I am still young. But Shepard, no matter what that bosh'tet says, no one can blame you for what you've gone through. My father likes to yell at people like that, not because he really believes the person is worthless, but to shock them into listening." She glanced down at the deck, then stepped close to Shepard and hugged her.

"You saved me from death more than once, and I think you're the only person my father has ever backed down from." She let go, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. "Don't beat yourself up."

Shepard found her emotions lurching all over the place – gratitude, fear, sorrow – and instead squeezed Tali's shoulder and wiped her eyes with her other hand. "I'm okay. Weepy like a bitch but okay. Fuck. I just..." She exhaled. "SO much has happened and I'm not ready for it. Hearing him just unload on me like that kinda... too hard to take at once."

Liara took her other hand and squeezed it tightly. "You will never be alone, Sara. If nothing else, we are here."

Tali nodded. "Or we could call Wrex for krogan counseling..."

Shepard's laugh was strained but sincere. "I'll pass, Tali. Last thing I need is him bitching about women crying and talking too much."


	7. Chapter 7 : Training and Tears

A/N:

_It's fun to write to the Rocky soundtrack, did you know? I wanted to give a highlight of exactly what Shepard is being put through, and the kind of things that snuck into my fic as I was writing it that, on hindsight, don't make much sense.  
><em>

_The Tupari Machine makes it's first strike. _

_For Hazred - think a very old Michael Early._

_Part of this chapter is about the crap the SA is into. The rest is a glance into the sort of training Shepard goes through. I don't plan to belabor this part too long – there's pieces for the other characters – but it will show Shepard moving away from 'screaming biotic badass' to a more thoughtful,lethal warrior._

_New chapters in **Flock of Vandals** and **Living an Indoctrinated Dream**. Read. Review. Please. You won't regret it. _

* * *

><p><em>'Training hurts. But you will find the pain of training is less than the agony of defeat or the emptiness of death' – <em>

_Rachel Florez, 'Not all that glitters is eezo'_

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><p>Shepard thudded to the floor, gasping and trembling, her whole body soaked with sweat and muscles aching.<p>

_Fuck, I didn't go this hard in N7 training. _

Across the room from her, Admiral Ahern lowered himself to a bench, wiping his face with a towel and groaning a bit. "I may not be as young as I used to be, Shepard, but that was just goddamned embarrassing."

Training the past three weeks had been beyond brutal. Mondays sucked.

The first day of training had been the worst. He'd had her show up in her Spectre armor with live weapons to a training facility that consisted of nothing more than four reinforced walls and lots of open space. She'd stood there while he'd instructed the medics he'd brought to stand by and addressed her and a pair of officers that had accompanied him.

"Shepard, I do this to every soldier I train. I've found, over the years, that the best way to make knuckleheads listen to me is to beat their ass until they're crying. Every stupid bastard that's come through that door has been convinced that they are the deadliest son of a bitch in space. Every one of them has had their brains rattled by me. I did it to David Anderson. I did it to Richard Branson. Hell, I even did it to that sorry bastard Dragunov. Now it's your turn."

He gestured around the room in grandiose fashion, while the two officers gave long-suffering sighs. "This is your arena, Shepard. You still think you're the best of the best, prove it. I want you to come at me with goddamned everything. That ODIN, your biotics, omniblades, grenades, I don't give a shit. Everything you have. The medics are here to patch you up and stop you from dying when I hand your ass back to you. These two officers are here to witness and laugh at you."

Shepard had – in hindsight, foolishly – arched an eyebrow. "Sir, that seems unwise. We're not using practice weapons. I'm sure you're good, but what if I end up killing you through some mistake?"

The two officers spent a good ten seconds laughing.

Ahern had simply put his helmet on, wearing only a cheap Onyx armor suit with a stock shield generator and an older looking omnitool. A couple of grenades on his belt. "I've lived through a full kinetic orbital bombardment. I've saved the entire Systems Alliance twice. I've fought Spectres, and armies of turians and krogan. You won't stop me."

He glanced at the officers. "Boys, the usual. If God himself decides to interfere and by some miracle she does manage to kill me, it was a training accident, make sure she's cleared of any wrongdoing, all that shit."

The officer had actually rolled his eyes as he stepped back. "You are a sadistic son of a bitch, sir."

Shepard put on her Spectre helmet, frowning, and set herself in her usual stance, shotgun loose, ready to roll to either side. The bastard wasn't even taking her seriously, wearing Onyx armor that wouldn't stop a good assault rifle round, much less her ODIN. "Your funeral, sir."

Ahern had pulled out a weapon she'd never seen before, a heavy looking pistol of asari manufacture with an oversized barrel, and then made a 'come on' gesture.

"Come at me, marine."

Shepard, trying to think outside her usual box, triggered her omnitool to fire a flare, then performed a biotic charge behind him, sweeping the ODIN down to blast at his legs, making sure to use the wide burst setting to try and cripple him.

Her blast hit empty decking, a second before a shot landed crunched into her stomach. There was a dull whump and a biotic blast shattered her barrier, sending her flying against a wall. She barely had time to react before another shot slammed into her shoulder, sending her Revenant LMG flying away.

She rolled away and scrambled to her feet, only to see the blocky outline of a phase disruptor grenade a second before it exploded and pins and needles erupted all over her body. Shaking off her daze, she rolled to one side again, barely avoiding more shots that rattled her armor with their force.

She came up, only for Ahern to backhand her and send her back to the deck again. Before she could move, he stomped her head against the ground, leaving it ringing, and she blinked as the hot-orange glare of an omniblade stabbed into the deck next to her.

"Dead, Shepard. The fucking shit is this? I've seen better fights from a goddamned hanar juggler! That was fucking pathetic!"

He rose, and kicked her ODIN back over to her. "Get the fuck up and try it again, this time without looking like a goddamned quadriplegic!"

She exhaled, shaking her head to clear it, as he backed away. He had moved so fucking fast she couldn't even react. She squared herself up again, cursing at the pins and needles feeling in her body from the biotic grenade, but knowing it wouldn't last much longer.

She gritted her teeth and set herself. Ahern mimed a yawn. "I'm not getting any fucking younger, Shepard. Either come at me or pussy out!"

She kicked off to one side with her right leg, firing at the oblique. Ahern had moved the second she had, her shot missing completely, and his return fire slammed in to the deck in front of her, sending her tumbling even as he closed in again, no doubt to fuck her up in close quarters while she was stunned.

_Not happening, asshole. _

She came up firing, catching the charging Ahern just barely. The shot staggered him slightly, but he spun with the force of the blast, avoiding the second even as his own gun hand came around and fired. Her second blast had barely missed entirely, but his return fire was more accurate. The glowing blue sphere hit the wall behind her, another bubble of force blowing her off her feet into a stumble towards him.

She managed to control her stumble by forcing her Spectre armor into a lock-joints state, breaking it a moment later as she felt her biotics begin to return. She used that, pushing off the ground with a weak lift to avoid more dreadfully accurate fire, nearly crying as she forced more energy through her nerves to turn it into a full push-off.

She flipped completely over his head, flinging a disc grenade. Ahern kicked it in midair out of the way, firing at her landing spot. The blast caught her in mid air and she completely lost her balance, skidding back. Alarms rang across her HUD as his second shot blasted her in the knee, making her grit her teeth to avoid screaming as she staggered back up.

_Gotta stop that fucking hand cannon!_

She fired the ODIN at his gun hand, barely keeping in control of the recoil with her damaged knee, and he roared as it came apart, his armor buckling under the impact. Rather than reach for another weapon he tapped his omni and vanished.

She fired twice in a wide sweeping arc, hitting nothing. Before she could get off a third, a vicious elbow caught her armor in the small of her back, making her flinch. Ahern did _something _with his other arm, spinning her around to face him, but throwing her off balance. Not pausing, he grabbed her ODIN shotgun while sweeping his foot against her already battered knee, destabilizing her even more.

She tried for a flip, using her off-balance weight and some weak biotic leverage, but rolled with her and used the tumble to twist her weapon away from her grip. He tossed the ODIN away and his omnitool gleamed, forming a gauntlet over his hand which he grasped her arm with. She jolted and screamed as an overcharge shorted out most of her armor's electronics and seared her.

Kicking out with everything she had, Shepard knocked him back, hard enough to send him staggering back. She smiled, her hands going for the Sunfire-B pistol on her belt and bringing it up to fire.

The gun needed a good half-second to charge before it could fire. Ahern landed, flipped to his feet, and kicked it out of her hands before she could even react, following it up with another blindingly fast high kick to her head. The armor blunted it's force, but it left her head ringing and turned her cone of vision away from him. He threw himself down, between her legs, tripping her up and grabbing one of her arms as she fell.

He used the same restriction-grapple move Rachel had on Edolus, using her armor against her, nearly breaking her arm even while he once more drove his omniblade into the decking an inch from her head. "Dead again, Shepard. At least this time you didn't go out in five fucking seconds, so that's improvement, if only from quadriplegic to paraplegic."

She grimaced against the pain in her twisted shoulder and rolled away as he stood. "Jesus Christ..."

He chuckled. "No, just Tradius Ahern." The medics came over and examined his arm where she'd blown his gun out of his hand, while the officers traded credit chits in the distance.

She swallowed a bit seeing the second ugly slot in the decking where his omni-blade had sunk in, and sighed.

He folded his arms, cocking his head a bit. "That flare was unexpected, and you did a good job not panicking when I dropped your biotics. But you left yourself open, which is stupid. The second time you were starting to lose your cool. You had a few good moves, but that mid-air flip was the dumbest shit I've seen in a long time. This is combat, not motherfucking Cirque d'Soleil!"

He shook his head. "Doesn't help your close-quarter combat skills are all tied up with that judotics bullshit. That's not a fighting style, it's a goddamned kata. It ONLY works if who you are fighting doesn't know how to counter it. You tried that shit with Saren and he beat you like a vorcha prostitute, and you still haven't learned why."

He sighed in disgust. "As for the last? Goddammit, Shepard, the M-903 Sunfire-B is a plasma COMPRESSION pistol. It takes too much time to charge the first shot to use it at close range like that. Your armor is real purty – the cape is especially stupid – and I wore Onyx armor not just because you have no chance at really hurting me, but also to show you a point. Mobility and flexiblity trump fancy bullshit every time."

The medic finished with Ahern's wrist, and he motioned the man towards Shepard. "It's not the size of the gun or the thickness of the armor, but how you use it. The best weapons and armor in the galaxy won't turn a rookie into a veteran. They're tools, Shepard. They don't make you invincible, and the more you rely on them instead of tactics and planning, the more likely you are to get in a world of hurt."

"That suit of Spectre armor is designed for asari. Sure, it fits you, but an asari's arm muscles are different than yours. That submission hold won't work on them, that's why the armor's shoulder joint moves that way. You need to have that fixed."

She sat up, as the medics approached, and took off her helmet. "That's the second time in less than five months I've been … owned using that move." She flexed her knee experimentally, and one of the medics began taking off her armored boot to work on it.

Ahern sighed, taking off his own helmet and handing it to one of the officers who trotted up. "Shepard, against my better goddamned judgment, I'm going to tell you something. There's probably not twenty people in the whole galaxy that could beat you down like I just did. Your very first move would kill almost anyone who didn't both have excellent reflexes and a predesignated evasion move for the kanquess-nova combination."

He paused, thinking. "In fact, given that the version of the charge you use is weaker but much faster than the standard biotic charge, most people would not react in time even if they knew the counter for it and still end up paste."

He scowled. "But the problem with that is you are likely to be going up against those very same people who can beat you. They're not going to rely on fancy-ass bullshit to beat you, Just skill. The one fight I truly lost was against a biotic assassin named Tyriun No Kage, who beat me with two fucking pulls. The bastard was unarmed, and I thought I had him, but he fucking flattened me with a Tupari machine, of all the goddamned things, then pulled down an electrical cable torn loose by that and nearly electrocuted me to death. Bastard didn't even break stride."

He shook his head. "Skill and training are better than equipment and sheer power. Because anyone can use equipment. Anyone can throw numbers or raw strength around. You won't get better if you keep relying on crap like that, Shepard."

She nodded, and he grunted. "If you take anything away from this room, it should be that. You had every technical advantage – better armor, better weapons,biotics. I had a popgun and a couple of cheap omni-tricks."

She laughed at the image. "That gun was not a popgun, sir."

He folded his arms as the medics continued checking Shepard out. "The pistol you ruined – and will be replacing with your own funds, by the way – is an asari Acolyte, using compressed mass effect bubbles to generate biotically damaging blasts. Blows up barriers, shatters biotic wall evocations. Throws people around real good. Speaking of pistols..."

He frowned at the Sunfire-B pistol. "That looks unpleasantly familiar. May I see?"

She handed it over, and he turned it side to side. "Heh. I remember this fucking thing. Pain in the goddamned ass, still have scars and silver where that stupid bird shot me." He sighed. "I'm glad you fucking killed him."

She glanced up. "Saren, sir?"

He nodded. "Fought the ugly fuck once. Tail end of the FCW, in the ruins of Hellas II. Just after me and the Legacy squad embarrassed the entire Hierarchy. We were sabotaging a dam to slow turian ground forces, and some bright spike figured out we were up to no good and sent in the Deathwatch along with their newest Spectre to stop us."

He sighed, eyes focused on something in his past, flipping the gun over. "Bastard came after me with a kill team, slaughtered my men in seconds. I took out _his_ men with creative use of construction equipment, but he caught me up as I was fleeing through the dam control system. Nasty fight. Fucker had more toys than the goddamned Batman, and this fucking pistol is why I have a cybernetic lower leg. Only reason I took him out is he thought he'd killed me and forgot the First Rule."

She nodded, remembering Rachel's Rules. "Always check the body."

"Heh, good to see you haven't forgotten that much. Nearly blew my leg off, set me on fire, put two holes in my gut and left me to bleed out. Patched myself up with construction omnigel, a clumsy splint, and bits of a medkit I found on one of the turian corpses. Caught back up to him and got the drop on him – idiot was bragging on his omni about killing me!"

He snorted, but continued. "I was too busted up to finish him clean, but he was too mouthy for me not to try. Ended up backhanding his ass off the dam. Course, by that time, his fucking backup arrived, and I had to retreat, but he never forgot that he got his ass nearly killed by a half-dead human he'd turned his back on."

Ahern handed the pistol back. "Saren is a good example of what I mean by sloppy, Shepard. He was talented with every goddamned weapon he had, had some of the nastiest equipment and weapons in the galaxy, and was a skilled biotic. But he was an arrogant asshole who thought humans were inferior and therefore not dangerous. He assumed he'd killed me because he was some kind of bigshot bird noble and I wasn't."

He folded his arms again, as the medics finished patching up Shepard's minor wounds. "Assumption is the mother of all fuckups. I just beat your ass into the ground without heavy weapons, biotics, or anything but a gimmick pistol, some martial arts, a three-second cloak, a shock-gauntlet program I stole from a two-bit batarian slaver, and my goddamned brain. What does that tell you?"

She glanced down. "I need to train more." She paused. "I need to figure out how to work with what I have in a … better way." She shook her head. "I'm not stupid enough to think I don't need improvement after that, sir. What's first?"

Ahern frowned. "First we have to untrain some of the more retarded shit you do. Get out of that armor and into exercise gear and let's see what kind of shape you are in."

O-ATTWN-O

And thus it began. Every Monday, Ahern spent at least six hours a day with Shepard, focusing half on fixing what he found flawed in her techniques, teaching her two new forms of close-quarter martial arts. He didn't waste time on the details behind these forms or the myriad katas, but a mix of pressure and reaction moves from both styles and several others. He moved her through the motions and then he had her repeat until they were drilled into her skull.

Then came full contact sparring. She ended up unconscious after that, as he had literally kicked the shit out of her, using martial arts styles she'd never even heard of before – salarian, drell, asari, turian, several different human styles – all mixed into a delicate and graceful dance of pain.

"Close quarters battle means you were too stupid or slow to kill the fucker before he got close, or he got the drop on you. Either way, the only goal is to immobilize and kill him as fast as you can. Cripple if you can, cause pain and loss of breath or a light stun if you can't. Even a split second loss in his reflexes is enough time to gut him."

Endless hours on what he called moving from mid to close range, using nothing more than movement and flaws of vision to get close. Shepard learned that it took turian eyes a split second to refocus and adjust to rapidly closing targets moving from the sides to in front of them, while salarians overreacted to feints and could be faked out and evaded by combining high-speed spins with flashbangs.

"Never try blind-fighting asari. They can feel shit you can't, like sharks. Even in the pitch black darkness they will know where you are. Since their fucking flash-step is even faster than a kanquess, your normal charge-slay bullshit will only get you a face full of warp or bullets."

The other six hours Ahern apparently spent on Tali and Liara, or other officers, and she was left to the tender mercies of an absolutely ancient Hispanic retired drill sergeant who would only identify himself as 'Bobby' and who was even more foul-mouthed than Ahern, if less directly physical. His long gray hair was shoulder length, often tied back in a rough ponytail, and he smoked thin cigarillos that he refused to share.

Bobby pushed her through various obstacle courses and hazard ranges, sometimes allowing her to use biotics, sometimes not, in an effort to improve her ability to dodge and react to burst and snap-fire. He'd sit on an elevated platform on a comfortable chair, sipping tequila and listening to sports from Earth, and used an equally battered and antiquated Trizler Mk I sniper rifle from the First Contact War with subsonic rubber rounds to shoot her when she broke cover in the wrong way. The bullets were covered in a paralytic that would lock up her muscles, making further evasion even more difficult.

His approach was different than Ahern's, as he rarely gave her clear instructions, rather expecting for her to learn from her mistakes. He would sometimes tell her advice, cryptic bits of how to move. Lighting would change based on controls he shifted on a regular basis, and the goal was to make it through the course in time without being shot up. The first time she ran it, she got halfway through before she was unable to move, and he simply rolled his eyes at her and told her to start over when she could get up.

Bobby had her work through these courses with no armor (so he could paralyze her) and sometimes with no clear goal of where the exit was, and constantly railed on her in a mix of accented English and profanity-laced Spanish that she was the slowest and clumsiest N7 he'd seen. She hadn't used her Spanish since her days running with the Reds, but found herself responding to his taunts in kind.

"Heh. Me encanta tu culo, chica. Let's see less of it, though, the point of this is to be invisible in the cover, not sacudiendo su basura."

"Chingate, viejo bastardo estúpido!" Shepard cursed back, wincing as he fired shots into her posterior and she flung herself across a ditch filled with spikes to slam into cover. Numbness spread across her hips and she bit back a scream of frustration, huddled in the shallow cover of the broken concrete wall. "Fuck!"

"You sure say fuck a lot, chica. Tienes ganas? Maybe later." He howled with laughter, long gray hair falling into his face.

**O-ATTWN-O**

Tuesdays had been more enjoyable, Ahern covering the basics of space combat. "Since humans are stupid and we love tradition, we always want space battles to be goddamned Horatio Hornblower in space. It's not that simple. Space is three dimensional and a vacuum. Heat endurance, sensor range, gravity – all of these things play a role in fleet placement. You actually have a good eye for small tactics if the fights the Normandy got into are an indication, so we'll focus on bigger ships."

He was patient and crafty, using examples from historical space battles to illustrate the difference in flying a frigate and a cruiser. The heavier ship could afford to take hits and deal out heavier blows in return, but it's slower speed meant she had to be cautious about being flanked. "It's like a single lion facing down a pack of hyenas. Mano e mano, the hyenas are fucked. But if the lion gets too aggressive and they can get behind him, they'll tear out his legs and he'll bleed out."

Ahern showed her the asari combat methods – tenderize with a mix of ships and mobility, then go in for the kill with heavy units. Salarian tactics were elegant, using chaos and tough ships to confuse and tie up and enemy, sniping cruisers to tear apart their formations, and finally a single clean thrust with heavy ships to shatter commands.

Turians were blunt and favored attrition attacks, with their light units springing ahead like claws to tear and weaken an enemy and force them to close with the huge heavy ships of the line. Batarians were cold and dispassionate, keeping tight formations and picking apart single ships while spraying missiles and ECM to confuse and confound flankers, while their few dreadnaughts were platforms for boarding shuttles and clever fragmented rounds that sprayed sensor jammers.

Volus fought like seeming cowards, vomiting forth so many missiles and torpedoes that engagement was impossible, then using heavy guns to pick off anything stupid enough to have taken the missile hits on the chin. Shepard vividly remembered the fire power of the All Due Caution and could only agree. Elcor used ion cannons and heavy armor-shattering weapons to cripple ships and crews, fighting to drive back rather than kill.

He'd surprised her when he asked for her thoughts on geth tactics, listening carefully to her memories of the fights over Feros and Ilos. He'd taken notes and made a point to get Shepard to ask Tali for additional details.

"Shepard, when you teach, you learn. Both by finding new things you didn't know, and reinforcing what you did know. While most of what you know is dumber than a bag of rocks, I got as good as I am by never passing up an opportunity to learn."

O-ATTWN-O

On Wednesdays, the day was split. In the mornings, Ahern had run her through exercise routines while lecturing her on what he called the Tenets of Not Dying Like An Idiot. Focusing on movement, not position. Watching enemy leg motion and the balance of their center of mass, not their eyes. Using firepower to coral and control enemies rather than hammer them directly. Cover as more than stopping bullets, but preventing an enemy from knowing your exact location. Using asymmetrical approaches, never repeating a trick that worked twice on the same enemy.

"If they cannot predict you, they can't prepare for you! If they are ready when you come for them, you're fucked before the first shot is fired."

He focused on speed and evasion rather than 'stand-up' tactics, praising salarian and asari military tactics. Combined with her ability to perform the dancing kanquess, he felt if she could master combat movement as opposed to wild charges, she would be almost unhittable.

"Every goddamned part of the terrain is critical. Bobby should have hammered that into even your empty skull by now, or maybe you like being shot in the ass. Never go in directly! Hit them from the angle they don''t expect and can't fucking see!"

He forced her to experiment with different 'scenarios' – moving from long to mid range under heavy fire, or operating with only a pistol while her armor shut down in several places,simulating wounds. He had her demonstrate her various biotics and designed new tactics to combine them as platforms and movement enhancers rather than just weapons.

After lunch, they focused on weapons. The first day had been just as brutal as the rest, as he had her lay out her typical weapons loadout.

"Sunfire-B pistol. Great stopping power. Shitty when you need rapid reaction. It's a basically overkill, Shepard, and you seem to have a hardon for that. I won't tell you the fucking thing isn't useful – it almost killed me AND you, after all – but you need a second pistol for when shit goes completely to hell. Preferably, something you can carry when not in armor that doesn't look like a goddamned hand-cannon."

He'd had her shoot several pistols, critiquing her stance. "Weaver is for gun-ho idiots who watch too much fucking police drama, Shepard. If you get into a serious pistol fight, you aren't gonna have time to set your feet just fucking so. You'll be running, crouched, something. Lemme show you a batarian stance the SIU uses for firing from cover and maintaining balance."

He was only faintly critical of her shotgun tactics, muttering something about spacing, but aside from a few tips on using momentum to counter recoil, he was almost complementary. "Your ODIN is a wonderful fucking thing, Shepard. Stout enough to crush some fucker's skull in, good sweep close in, chokes for range and slotted hot-swaps for mods and ammo blocks. I can see why it's the center of your combat style, but keep in mind that a shotgun is not an all purpose response."

Then he'd looked over the rest of her weapons – her THUNDERBOLT sniper rifle, her Revenant machine gun, and grenades and omni.

He pretty much exploded.

"Shepard. This appears to be a goddamned Revenant machine gun."

She coughed. "Yes, sir. I picked up one on Eden Prime, liked how it handled. The Avenger always was too lightweight."

Ahern put his face in his hands. "Are you sure someone didn't use your head to dig holes for fence posts at some point, Shepard?" He glared at her. "It's a FUCKING SQUAD MACHINEGUN! How in the name of fucking Chesty Puller can you be lugging around eleven kilos of bullshit on your back and fail to fucking realize this piece of – oh, of course." He spat, voice turning sarcastic. "You get around it with more biotics, don't you, the recoil and weight. More biotic lazy-ass bullshit."

He kicked her beautiful Revenant onto the floor. "I have no earthly fucking idea how you can manage to have overkill on every single fucking weapon you use and still manage to be completely unprepared. Your stupidity is an inspiration to knuckleheads everywhere. The Revenant is a finicky piece of shit. It requires near constant maintenance or the mass railing is likely to go out on you in the middle of a firefight. You can't mod the fucking thing, and as far as keeping it on target outside of very short rifle ranges go, it's impossible. It has shitty armor penetration, and while it rips through shields it won't do dick against anyone in heavy cover!"

Shepard sighed. "I used it for suppressive fire as I closed range, most times..."

Ahern grimaced. "That's even more completely fucking idiotic. You just told me, rather than kill the fuckers when they're over there, you wasted time, ammo, and exposed your position to tie them up and kill them up close."

He got up in her face. "You have a gun for one reason. TO FUCKING KILL THE ENEMY! You do not waste Christ only knows how many fucking credits and lug around a toddler on your back, for fucking suppressive fire! That is why the goddamned fuck we give you marines for! Tell me, Shepard, how many of the hard fights you had involved this weapon being key?"

She thought back, carefully, then frowned. "None, really."

He rolled his eyes. "Take that piece of shit and sell it. You could replace half your marine armament for the cost of that goddamned thing, the only people who use them are guys with dick issues and asari with dick envy."

Then they got into sniping.

"Shepard, the THUNDERBOLT is a goddamned anti-material rifle. Why in fuck are you toting one around? Is it because you need something to compensate for not having a dick?"

She scowled. "This is what the RRU gave me, sir. Most can't use it, but with my biotics I can support the weight. It comes in useful against heavier targets."

He narrowed her eyes. "Shepard, you've said lots of stupid things, but that is so stupid I think I just lost a fucking pile of brain cells. You are specialized in rapid-close quarters combat. You use a shotgun that puts dinner sized holes in armored krogan. The only thing you need this half-assed Widow for is taking out light vehicles, which YOU DO NOT FUCKING FIGHT."

She shrugged. "I can use it as an antipersonnel sniper, sir, I assure you."

"Shit, this I have to see." He observed her fire off rounds at 880 yards, first with biotics, and then without. He didn't like her habit of pausing for almost ten seconds to get her sniper rifle properly on target without biotics, especially given her lesser accuracy.

"Jesus Christ, Shepard. Are you waiting for the target to blow you a kiss? Don't stand there looking pretty, SHOOT the goddamned thing."

A short lunch and she had been back at it, this time with Ahern making her fire off a wide selection of weapons – designated marksman rifles, battle rifles, dedicated snipers. He tore down her aiming, her targeting, and her stances. He railed at her reliance on biotics to steady herself when sniping and made her fire off over five hundred rounds with an Incisor sniper rifle to start learning to control her breathing.

"Your biotics is a tool, but if you rely on tools too much, you don't learn any skill. That turian cop you ran all over space with didn't have fancy biotic crap to steady his aim, and from what I see could out shoot you any day of the week. That's because he had fucking skill and not magical blue bullshit!"

He sent off an officer with some orders, who came back with a lightweight segmented rifle. "This, Shepard, is a salarian rifle. It's called a Manur Sniper Rifle. It weighs seven pounds, has VI assisted targeting, a spotting drone, augmented auto-balancing, and shoots out armor-piercing rounds that shatter once they get past armor. Take that goddamned THUNDERBOLT and rack it in your armory and try this instead."

The rifle shot like a dream, even with no biotic assistance, letting her hit headshots at almost 1100 yards. She looked up and Ahern smirked. "Now you have a long-range backup you can use when you can't use biotics."

He wasn't impressed with her grenades either. "Explosives, hi-ex, oh look, explosives and more fucking explosives. Do you know, Shepard, there is more than flinging around hi-ex when it comes to grenades?" He yelled for one of his aides again. "Go bring me a type VII field grenade layout, and don't fuck up my salarian gamma grenades, those things are collectors items!"

He turned back to Shepard while he waited. "Grenades have three purposes. Flushing from cover and destroying it, preventing enemies from being able to sit in a single location, and denying routes of advance. Anyone who taught you to use them to inflict casualties is stupid. Yes, they can obviously fucking kill things. But I'd rather flush out three enemies from cover and kill them in a cross fire than blow up one and highlight my goddamned position to his two buddies I didn't kill."

He sighed. "The problem with most soldiers is they don't fucking think during the fight. Aim, cover and movement are what determine if you get hit, or if you can hit the enemy. Hitting the enemy is key! Not throwing bullets. Not flinging explosions everywhere. Aim. Cover. Movement."

He jabbed his finger at her. "If you can't aim, then you're just hoping for luck. If they're in cover, then you can't hit them. If they move in a fashion where they counter your own cover, you are fucked. Grenades allow you to stop his aiming by fucking over his ability to sit in advantageous cover. They destroy cover, or force him to flee it, making him vulnerable. And they can shut down or at least hinder his movement."

The aide returned with a web-belt of various types of grenades. "This is a mix I personally use. Four smoke grenades, for mobile smokescreens. Two hi-ex, for cover destruction. Two anti-biotic, for idiots like you. One toxic frag, for area denial. Two UV/burst flashbangs – stops humans, salarians, turians, and goddamned drell. And two salarian snapflak grenades. EMP burst, along with metal frags. Crimps shields and does a number of bots."

He draped the belt over her neck. "Get the fuck out of her and go play with your new rifle. I have other members of your team to beat."

O-ATTWN-O

Thursdays had become her most depressing and irritating day, covering the politics and command realities – and secrets – of the SA. The first session had been also been infuriating and confusing. She'd arrived in Ahern's office, only to find the admiral talking to a Commissar.

The man half turned when she entered. Unlike the simplified uniforms worn by Jiong and Susan, this Commissar's greatcoat was more elaborate. Basically a black-tinted Systems Alliance dress top, it's lower half lengthened to form a long , coat-like trail trimmed in gold, cut back at the waistline to reveal pressed dress trousers tucked into high boots. The red sash of the Commissariat was surmounted by a thinner gold one, and the man's cap was also more elaborate than Jiong's.

The man's dark , aged African features were set off by his startlingly clear pale blue eyes, and his hair was in neat, straightened queue trimmed in a military fashion, mostly gray with a few strands of white. He gave her a wintry smile as she stopped, before glancing back at Ahern.

Ahern's voice, for the first time since she'd met him, was quiet and clear of profanity. "Major Shepard, this is Commandant-General Marcus Hazred. He will be conducting the bulk of today's training. I suggest you listen carefully to what he has to say and keep your questions short. We'll talk after."

Shepard nodded slowly, thinking. Marcus Hazred was the highest ranking Commissar in the SA below that of the High Commandant, and many conspiracy theories put him as the true power behind the throne since High Commandants came and went every few years but Hazred had been in place since the First Contact War.

His voice was an emotionless, smooth baritone that brooked no disagreement. "Major Shepard. Have a seat. Admiral Ahern, I will contact you when I am done."

The admiral gave him a sour look but only nodded, standing up from his desk. He shot a warning glance at Shepard before departing the room.

Shepard sat in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the desk, and the Commandant took the other. He folded his hands together and looked at her critically. "When an officer of the Systems Alliance reaches command rank, there are certain unpleasant truths that one must be exposed to. Some officers take these things well, understanding that the universe is not a place that rewards decency. Others take it less professionally, or are too wedded to their values, views or ethics to cope with the truth."

He glanced at the door, and a squad of Commissariat Lancers entered in full armor and with drawn weapons – mostly sniper rifles. One had a pulse suppression device. They took up positions around the room.

Shepard turned back to face the Commandant. "Am I being threatened? I don't take well to that."

Hazred smiled. "Nor should you. This is merely a precaution. Those who cannot accept the mandates of what the SA is required to do are given a choice – a quick memory block procedure and general discharge from the military, or immediate execution. Luckily, since you are no longer a Z2, you can actually walk away from this conversation alive if you decide you cannot continue to serve the SA."

She exhaled. "You wouldn't go through this song and dance if it wasn't bad. Mind you, I've already learned quite a few ugly things about the SA."

The Commandant nodded. "Yes, Major Kyle. He never agreed with the direction the SA was headed in, and I fear as time passed he became less tolerant. Good men, Shepard, make very poor leaders. A leader must be called upon to make sacrifices, and few good men can handle the ugly math of sacrifice. Still, perhaps this will not go as badly as I had thought, since you already know some of the worst."

His eyes were without emotion, just like his voice. "Tell me. What is the purpose of the Systems Alliance?"

She answered instantly, the answer drilled into her since boot. "The Systems Alliance is the government of the Sol System and it's colonies. It is humanity's military, economic, scientific and cultural center. It protects humanity's home and the dignity, freedom, and chance for upward mobility for all humans, and it's goal is peaceful co-existence and sustainable growth."

Hazred nodded. "Admirable that you can recite our creed from memory. I suppose I should expect little else from one such as you. Have you seen this Systems Alliance in your military career?"

She thought on that sentence, then shrugged. "No. But I wouldn't expect to. Given my past and the terms of my military service as a Z2. I'm … hoping that now things are different and I can see it."

He nodded again. "Then I am afraid I have bad news for you. The Systems Alliance has only one goal, and that goal is the preservation of a portion of humanity under our own uninfluenced control. If the outer colonies must die so that the core of the SA will live, they will be sacrificed. If biotic citizens must suffer so that the next generation is capable of living lives without cancer, then they will be sacrificed."

He pointed at her. "If we need more biotics, we will blow up our own ships. If we need more fodder, we will let our own citizens fall into criminality and draft them. If the poor are restless, we will let crime and economic depression stop them from agitating for more rights. If the rich wield too much influence, we will drain their wealth with citizenship tiers and play them against each other in a meaningless feudal simulation."

"The Systems Alliance only cares about the survival of humanity. Not it's dominance, that is not ever going to happen. Not the happiness of it's people. Not the success of it's businesses. Survival trumps being happy, trumps profit, trumps sentimentality. Every action we take is calculated towards that result. The Commissariat. The Criminal Code. The Penal Legions. The actions at Black-443 with L2 biotics. The deliberate abandonment of Thanas. The mess at Torfan. All of it, Shepard, is geared towards survival."

She opened her mouth to speak but he shook his head. "Let me finish, please. You may scream or ask questions later, I promise."

"The first thing people ask is why. And the only answer I can give them is that 'because we have to'. It was never intended this way. The founding fathers of the SSA relied on brutality, Commissariat oppression, and fascist elements in the government to try and restore order after the Days of Iron. To reign in anarchy, to find a way to organize humanity enough to at least feed them and shield them from the hell-scape we'd turned Earth into. Certain men grew too fond of the power, and the Commissariat corrected that. But the goal was always that, eventually, humanity would stabilize. Survival would be more assured, and the need for more extreme measures removed."

Shepard grimaced, and he continued. "Unfortunately, just as humanity started to reach equilibrium, the First Contact War erupted. Once again we faced not just death but extinction. Extinction is not an option. Thus, we once again committed horrible deeds. We deliberately riled up the turian reaction to drive them on, knowing their own atrocity would stiffen human resistance."

He folded his arms. "In the end, rather than be utterly ruthless, however, the leadership … faltered. They allowed refugees to flee to Earth rather than sealing the Charon Relay and letting everything outside it die. And that lead to Earth nearly being destroyed. If not for the asari, we would all be dead."

He leaned forward. "In the aftermath of the FCW, we were forced to act. We again committed vile acts. We restrained the people. We brutalized the colonies. Taxes were raised and the people were squeezed – because we had to rebuild the SA as rapidly as possible. People complain about freedom, about happiness, about the right to spend their money as they wish – not realizing they could be vaporized tomorrow by pirates or gangers or kill-thrill lunatics like Eclipse. The only thing stopping humanity from flickering out like a light was the SA."

He leaned back. "And when things once more settled down? When it looked as if we could trade peacefully with the Council races, when it seemed they were helping us? When it seemed, finally, we could loosen the bindings a bit and do away with ugly things like Cerberus?"

He met her gaze. "We discovered that we were fools for being so trusting. That salarians have bred up a genophage-like viral plague that creates serial teratomas in most human infants. That their STG has spies in our economy, siphoning funds. In our science universities and tech centers, stealing our own ideas to sell back to us. In our military, copting our troops. That to them, such things are normal – that they would wipe out all humanity tomorrow as long as they weren't caught doing it – just to be a little safer."

"We learned our 'cousins' the asari have sabotaged our biotics and our economy. That they send their siari religion into our worlds to sway our people towards following them and setting aside sacrifice for humanity's future. We learn they are so manipulatory that their word for honesty means something like 'showing everything but what you are planning'. That the Thirty probably have some kind of Prothean ruin or Beacon they've never told the public about. That they literally are in long term plans to disassemble the SA piece by piece and make us a client species, because their own lower classes are tired of sleeping with aliens that don't look like them."

"We learned the asari and salarians have been betraying the turians and each other for centuries. The salarians opened up the rachni relay on purpose, hoping to weaken the asari enough to let them take ascendance in running the galaxy. And the asari subtly baited the krogan into thinking they could take salarian colony worlds, only for it to backfire when they took asari ones too. They've played the volus, the quarians, the hanar."

Hazred gave her a small, chilling smile. "In short, they are all every bit as sick as anything Cerberus has ever done. They merely keep it under wraps better."

She snarled. "I have a hard time believing that. They don't experiment on humans- "

"Shepard, do you really think the batarian slave markets are filling a need for manual labor in this day and age? Yes, some. But we have evidence that salarian STG groups have bought human slaves for experiments. Asari matrons purchase slaves for their little harems. Asari investors on Ilium sold some human biotics to the Collectors for technology used in short-range mass collector technology now driving our mobile mining communes out of business. Volus companies kidnapped humans to figure out what designer drugs would do best on the markets and back the tech-gangs that you yourself got caught up in."

The commandant sighed. "Thus, the SA does what seems like very immoral acts at times. We allow human supremacists to operate, and groups like Cerberus, because we are not capable of absorbing the negative consequences of having our acts fall upon the SA itself. Defending ourselves from the shadow aggression of other races would be used against us to hypocritically say humans were a danger."

"We do nothing about it because we can do nothing safely. Instead we make our own preparations, and work hard to secure the survival of humanity. This is why the Commissariat is so brutal. This is why command commits atrocities such as those you encountered on Feros. This is why, yes, Cerberus answered to SA officials for many years. And this is why we don't let most officers, and no civilians, know the truth."

The commandant gave another sigh. "It is not easy information to take in. Many officers take up service and 'wear the Blue' out of a desire to defend, to be proud of their service, to fight in hopes of a day where fighting is no longer needed. I am afraid the leadership of the SA has decided such a day may never come. Your own revelations, about a race of beings who seek the destruction of all sentient life in the galaxy and who may come for us at any time, does not inspire us to become more lenient."

Shepard was silent for several seconds. "The SA is supposed to be better than this."

Hazred shook his head. "No, it is not. Perhaps it's people should be. Perhaps in a galaxy where others were not so vile, we could turn away from such acts. But there is no way to guarantee human survival except through the most extreme methods. I said survival. We cannot dominate. Our technology is not even close to that of the asari or the salarian except in a few things. For every human there are three salarians, nine asari, twenty-two turians. This is not the plan of men who want to conquer the galaxy. We will never achieve such. It is not merely bitter old men clinging to power, or racists who think they know better."

He pointed to himself. "Each Commissar is … for lack of a better word, conditioned. The result of that conditioning is that almost all of us grow to despise the despotic, feudal, fascist mess that is the SA. We hate what we are forced to perform. And yet, when the time comes for a Commissar to move beyond his or her conditioning and make choices, every single one has reluctantly continued the course we are on. Because there is simply no other choice."

"The President is not briefed on such. The Ministers are not. They are civilians and they do not need to know what happens in the dark. Only the Commissars, command-level officers, the AIS, and a few of the heads of noble families are told the truth. We don't tell you this to alienate you. We tell you this so you will understand. Dragunov was not upset with you for destroying the Thorian. He was upset because your action weakened the SA, and by talking to the Council they could twist your words to injure the SA further. "

She shook her head. "There has to be a basis for … decency." Her voice sounded almost desperate to her own ears, and she couldn't look at the man's eyes.

Hazred shook his own. "How can we apply a human concept to aliens, Shepard? Individually, yes. But collectively? We cannot. We can convince single people. Friends, lovers, those who fight alongside us. Maybe in a thousand years the need for such brutality, paranoia, and oppression will be unnecessary, and we can let it fall. But doing so now leaves us at the mercy of alien cultures who do not see the universe through the lens of our eyes and see humanity as a threat, or a resource, or a toy, but not as a partner."

She grit her teeth. "Then why do we allow in the aliens at all? Why have asari citizens, or salarian ones! Why let turians in! Why not pull a Batarian Hegemony!"

Hazred shrugged."Not all aliens are blind to the sins of their own people. The asari that come to the SA to be citizens are unhappy with asari social demands, with the reduction of the clanless into lives as the lower class. Despite how powerful their economy is, there are too many asari – too many unemployed. Some salarians are fed up with their lot in life, their inability to establish themselves or prove themselves. Some turians value honor and doing the right thing above petty revenge. Notice I didn't mention the Hierarchy in the list of bad apples earlier."

He folded his arms. "We are doing our very best to not be … I suppose evil is too melodramatic a term, but it will suffice. This is a matter of looking out and finding every set of actions is going to hurt someone. There is no simple 'good' or 'bad' choice. We must only insure that we do these acts because they are required, not because we think we have the right, or because we crave power."

"As an officer of the SA, you will be called upon to keep this knowledge quiet. To suppress and prevent anything that might damage humanity's survival from coming into play. You may be called upon to commit atrocity yourself. But at least now you will know why, Major."

She stared hard at the floor. "Dragunov said much the same to me, after Feros. He said he didn't have any problems sleeping at night."

The commandant stood. "Then he was lying, Shepard. I have not had a good night's sleep since I had my conditioning removed, and I strongly doubt I ever will. I now require your oath. Will you, Major-Commander Sara Ying Shepard, uphold the Manswell Doctrine? To ensure humanity survives, no matter the cost in tears, blood, and sin? Or will you decline?"

"You have already performed great service for the Systems Alliance. If you cannot serve in this, you can retire with honor and a clear conscience."

She shook her head. "No, it wouldn't be a clear conscience." She firmed her jaw. "What we are doing is wrong. It might be needed. It might be required. But I lived all these years being able to believe in one thing, one concept that kept me from going fucking crazy at night. That there is something _better _than just goddamned surviving at all costs. That other people had found it, and so could I."

She stood, and met his gaze. "I'm going to take your oath, because I have to believe I can fucking change it somehow."

He stared at her for a long moment before his aged features softened with a smile. It was not the cool, mocking smile she'd seen from most Commissars, but a gentle, almost relieved one. "If it is to happen, Major, I will not be here to see it. But it is officers like you – people like you – that make us determined not to give into the dark simply because we must."

She exhaled. "I swear to uphold the Manswell Doctrine? To ensure humanity survives, no matter the cost in tears, blood, and sin." She swallowed, and Hazred nodded, making a hand motion to the Lancers, who departed the room.

"In that case, Shepard, I hope you can do what you believe so strongly in. Admiral Ahern will return shortly. Go with the grace of our Father." The big man stepped away, his greatcoat fluttering, and left.

She sat down bonelessly, lost in though, and barely noticed Ahern come back in. He sat two glasses on the desk, and cracked open a bottle of scotch. "When they told me, Shepard, I vomited. Almost told the fucker he could take my captain's bars and shove up 'em up his ass."

He poured, filling each glass halfway. "I wish I had some fancy ass words for why I didn't. But there's no goddamned pretty way to say it, is there?"

She took the glass and drank, thankful as the heat poured down her throat. "No, there isn't."

Ahern sat at his deck, sipping his own glass, and pulled a cigar from the box on the side. "I'm not going to fucking coddle you and cheer you up, or give you some kind of pithy wise bullshit that will let you move past this. If there ever comes a fucking time the memory of what you were told today doesn't piss you the fuck off, then do us all a favor and blow your brains out."

She gave a weak laugh at that. "Not much chance of that shit happening." She drank. "I … I wanted to think … "

Ahern snorted. "You wanted it to be a goddamned easy thing? Bad is over here, with fucking horns and claws and gangs and drugs. Good is over there, fluffy white clouds and giggling kids. Horseshit. Life has never worked that fucking way. I guarantee you the goddamned spikes, blues, grays, slows, fours and, assuming they aren't spouting poetry about how 'this one feels like a flower', hanar do the same goddamned thing. We're all fucking dirty."

He took another drink. "That shit is for politicians and creepy fuckers like Hazred and the Manswells to sort out. I don't give a shit about any of it. I'm going to wear my Blue by my own goddamned methods, and so are you."

She gave a reluctant smile. "I can drink to that..."

"Not for long. We have work to do. Training you how not to fuck up when dealing with high level bullshit. Drink your fucking scotch, the quicker we get this over with the quicker I can get you out of my fucking hair."

The rest of the day was something of a blur for Shepard, and she found herself drinking quiet heavily that night aboard the Kazan. Much of what she'd believed in had just gone up in smoke, and dealing with it was difficult when she was reeling from so much other information in her life.

Liara had fallen asleep on the bed, too tired to even get out of her uniform, her features drawn with pain, and Shepard wondered how bad her sessions were. She poured another glass of scotch and quietly wandered across the hall to her stateroom, queing her comm console.

"VI, establish comms – Anderson, David. Captain, Citadel Embassy E44992."

She waited almost a minute before the ping went through, then another two before his voice and image appeared. "Sara? I was about to head home,it's almost 2100."

She smiled wanly. "I … learned some things today."

His face sagged a bit, eyes closing briefly. "Lay it on me, Sara."

She couldn't even muster up the strength for a smile. "About the … things they teach you when you hit O6. The so-called fucking reasons. The … fuck." She found herself wanting to scream again, some part of her soul too weary to let it out.

Anderson sighed, his expression both sympathetic and sad. "Sara, I won't sugar coat things. What the SA does and thinks it has to do is, like I hinted at back after Feros, sometimes necessary. There have been actions taken by the SA that make me ill to think about, and at the same time, they are the only things that stopped worse events from happening."

"I tell myself at night, when I let myself think about it, that it's a burden I have carry, so that the people I protect every day don't have to live with. I tell myself just because we've had to do evil things in the past doesn't mean everything we do now has to be evil."

She nodded slowly. "I just thought everything would be … so much different. That all the things they kept going over like honor, commitment, and courage had more meaning than 'die in a way not to embarrass the SA'."

Anderson gave a chuckle. "I think everyone wishes things could be different. I think maybe the … threat … you discovered might the first step in that. The Council reaching out to humans and quarians might have it's basis in good old realpolitik … but it's still a change in the status quo. I have to believe that, no matter what the bitter men running the SA think, we will find a way one day to live without needed to resort to vile acts and mutual blackmail. I took the oath I was offered because I was sure I could change it. So did many other men and women."

She nodded. "I.. I did too."

Anderson smiled. "I should have known that. I've told you before. Ever since the first day we met, you've been a person who has wanted to do what's right. You haven't always been free enough, strong enough, or fast enough to do it, but you've wanted to. Now you have a position, Sara – more influential than my own, or von Grath , or Kyle in many ways – and a chance to do just that."

She nodded. "It's...just a lot to absorb."

Anderson gestured at the drink. "Which is why I fell into that for a long time. I'm a better, stronger person than I was then, not because I stopped caring, but because I stopped trying to do it on my own. Let Kahlee back into my life. Made peace with some people in my past. Got to see the soldier I think of as my daughter turn her own life around. Don't try carry it on your own."

She looked up. "I can't speak of it."

David folded his arms. "No. But you can still speak of how you feel. And while I'm sure some Commissar is going to demand Liara never speak of it either, there is at least one other person besdies me you can talk to about it,someone to listen." He sighed. "No idea how secure this line is, so I'll just say this – never forget that most people don't know. Don't knowingly participate. Never blame the people for the shit the leaders do, Sara. That is how I get past it."

She smiled a bit and nodded. "I'll try. Good night ...I miss you guys."

"Take care, Sara."

O-ATTWN-O

Friday was almost like a day off, spent mostly tied up in regiment level training and tactics. He'd planned to go three days a week going over physical issues, but decided that she needed more grounding in commanding larger marine forces as well. So she sat with him and several marine colonels and majors, being given hypothetical situations and troop lineups, and basically sat around playing war-games for the day.

Of course, Ahern colored it with enough invective to cover a dreadnaught hull, but he was once again patient at times with her lack of knowledge.

"Shepard, the key in large-scale fighting is to never look at your entire force as a single entity. Each squad, each detachment, each fucking company has it's own strengths and weaknesses. Keep your reactions fluid. Don't tie up your mid-level officers with too many direct commands, give them a playbook and work through it with drills until they know what to do when the situation changes."

"The salarians don't even wait for higher command to give orders – they train their lieutenants and captains how to see situations and drill every single fucking solder how to react, so the big shots can focus on strategy and logistics. Turians,on the other hand, give command level power to even lower rankers, and let everyone on the battlefield call down the kind of backup they need, meaning every squad is a threat that can rain artillery or worse on your head."

"Marines are not turians or salarians. But you can borrow a lot of their tactics and make your own reactions harder to predict. It gives your men an edge. You're too used to leading from the fucking front, leaping about and showing off like some kind of clown in a biotic rodeo. Use your marines properly."

He had her write up how she'd failed on several past campaigns, and then tore them apart,showing her where the real problems were. "Sometimes you have to sacrifice men, Shepard. But you don't let yourself be shoved into doing so. IF you let the enemy control the battlefield and just fight reactively, sooner or later he's going to flank you and some of your boys and girls will end up dead. Fight active! Fight fucking big! You were in the goddamned RRU, use the tactics they did on small squad levels! Make your armor strong-points, not half-assed strike unit that manages to flank but gets smashed doing so."

O-ATTWN-O

Saturday had turned into a mess. The first one pitted Shepard, Liara, and Tali against just Ahern, and it had gone even worse than her one-on-one with him. Wearing only light armor and with an Avenger rifle, he'd tied them in knots.

Biotics were useless against them, as he was moving or dodging the second he saw Shepard or Liara limned in biotic power. He snap-shotted Tali's drones before she could launch them and made a mockery of Liara's creative attempts to corral him with shockwaves, using some kind of omni-tool program to magnetize his feet and wall-walk out of the way just in time.

Antibiotic grenades hit Shepard and Liara alike, and then the bastard was using some kind of magnetized rounds in his rifle that let his omni shoot out electrical shocks. Those rattled Liara's biotics so badly that she dropped her barrier to try to refocus, and like a flash he'd scored her armor with his omnitool just below her neckline and 'killed' her.

Shepard had fared better, drawing on the little she'd picked up and could internalize, but Ahern got the drop on her with a quick cloak and flinging a flat-pak stun grenade right on the one spot on her back she couldn't reach in full armor. The blast felt like her back had broken, and she'd stumbled up, only to find he'd scored her armor and 'killed' her too.

"Shepard, the love-hate relationship you seem to developing with the ground is amusing but depressing. Do you get N7 by fishing it out of a fucking box of Cracker Jacks nowdays?"

Amusingly enough it was Tali who held out the longest, pulling out more and more omnitricks to match his own before he surprised her with concussion grenades. Still unsteady on her cybernetic leg she'd overreacted, and he flashed out of cloak to kick her shotgun down and away and place the barrel of his Avenger against her faceplate.

"We have an N7 soldier, one of the scariest biotics I've ever seen, and a teenage girl I can kill by coughing on. Would anyone – anyone at fucking all – like to explain WHY IN FUCK she's the last one standing?"

Liara narrowed her eyes, but Tali was the one who spoke. "Because you're a sadistic bosh'tet and I didn't let you get behind me!"

Ahern glanced down at the girl, then chuckled. "Well, at least one of you isn't a goddamned moron."


	8. Chapter 8 : Parkour and Other Evasions

_**A/N:**_

_Soundtrack for this chapter: Moby's Natural Blues._

_Liara. Haven't focused on her for a while. Had to show her training as well, since I never really got how Liara could go from basically a civilian with some neat biotics to what she turned into ME2.I mean, in ME1 she could take like two hits on Insanity and down. I found that realistic. Then in ME2 she's doing all kinds of crazy shit.  
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_Do not even mention that wretched comic. The only cool thing in that entire series was Tazzik. _

_Did my best here with the emotional stuff as well. Progman suggested my first draft was too sappy and sweety. Thus, you have fluff instead of glurge. (**GLURRGE**!)  
><em>

_Romance fans, blame him. :P  
><em>

_I also need to touch on one other thing, which I try to fix up a bit in this chapter, namely Shepard's reaction to the revelation of the SA._

_More than anything else, Shepard is having to adapt to the knowledge dumped on her slowly. It will take time (a lot of time) for the final result of what she learned about to fully finish affecting her. She's not going to go on a crusade, and she's finally understanding that she can't fix everything wrong with the SA if the rest of the aliens are just as fucked up._

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><p><em>'Wisdom is rarely the words said, and more the moment in which they are spoken. One cannot behold the beauty of the rainbow save at the perfect moment, from the right angle.' <em>

_- Matriarch Benezia T'Soni, 'No one raindrop blames itself for the flood'_

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><p>Liara considered herself a person who only resorted to violence when forced. She was a scientist, a seeker after knowledge and understanding. Her whole life had been focused on the simple things that so fascinated her as a child, merrily basking in her mother's praise. The thrill of learning something new. The wonder of touching the past.<p>

Her travels with Shepard had opened her eyes somewhat to the violence of the galaxy, but she still shied away from the sheer joy that Shepard and many of her marines embraced combat with. To her, the violence only ended with the shattered frames of a once living, breathing being, eyes staring endlessly at nothing. She hated the stillness that death brought, even if there were no other options. Violence, all too often, lead to the destruction of beauty, of knowledge, of life.

She had surprised herself at the icy anger and cool dispatch she had shot Ushan with on the Citadel, but if she was being honest, Ushan was only slightly more tolerable than Manae or Yvael had been in her treatment of Liara in her youth. A tiny part of her – or a part of her changed by Shepard – had taken a dark satisfaction in ending her life. The rest of her firmly told herself that Ushan was already dying, and that the person she knew was gone. Death was a mercy in that situation, not merely the expression of violence.

But for the most part, Liara did not subscribe to violence as a method of solving anything. As Ahern kicked her across the room for the sixth time in five minutes, however, she was beginning to understand the appeal of her aithntar's and her lover's outlook.

Ahern didn't spend as much time with her as he did Shepard, but he spent more on her than any of the other officers. He tended to be analytical and critical rather than angry and violent, clearly expecting her to understand and grasp what he was telling her on a mental or intellectual level very rapidly. He held her to extremely, almost punishingly high standards, and didn't hesitate to remind her that a lack of preparation on her part might get Shepard killed one day.

The first day they'd met, he'd told her to come to his office but to make sure she wore armor and had her weapons. Standing in his office,he was looking out over the station from his window when she came in. "Ah, Lieutenant Commander. Sit down."

She did so, a touch nervously. The man's angry and profanity laden rant at Sara the day before had made him seem a brutish thug of little more than violence and the capacity for insult, but he sat down across from her with a fairly placid expression on his face and a gleam of sharp, measuring intellect in his eyes.

"I've been training humans for some fifteen years, ma'am. Asari for only four or five. The methods I use with Shepard are harsh because, well, she's been damn near ruined by neglect, by people using her like a bomb,and worst of all, by the few people around her who claim to care for her not being smart enough or willing to tear her down in order to help her. I don't scream at her out of dislike. It's because she was trained by an old team mate of mine, and on some level she responds to that better than me being calm."

He shifted in his chair, his blunt features taking on a wry hint of amusement. "Besides, I don't do so hot with calm words and cheery bullshit."

The admiral glanced over her, eyes searching and critical. "I don't take the same approach with everyone. That's not out of any consideration for someone's feelings – I don't give a shit, never did, never will. It's about what works. That's my only hard criterion when it comes to training – producing results. I don't think screaming at you or yelling will drive you to work harder. You're clearly an intelligent woman. Asari. What fucking ever." He huffed, then glared at her."

"I'm saying all this, Lieutenant Commander, because it's going to be very hard for me _not_ to scream at you. Not because screaming helps, but because you are doing something so exasperatingly, mind-shatteringly stupid that I have a hard time believing what I'm being ordered to do. And I've been ordered to storm a goddamned fortress filled with pissed off turians with nothing more than an assault rifle."

He gave her a stern look. "I've just been briefed on the situation between yourself and Shepard. I don't like fraternization. Never have. Saw in person what it did to two of my team-mates who thought more with their goddamned sex drives than their brains. I don't approve of it in any way, shape or form, but the brass has signed off on this, and the Commissars basically told me to live with the situation. There's a reason we have regs against things like fraternization, Lieutenant Commander, very good ones."

She nodded, but spoke firmly herself. "Yes, I am aware. I would point out that my own people do not have such regulations in our military forces. Nor do the turians."

He gave her a wintry smile. "You are correct. That is because your people are not fucking human, in case that slipped your notice. Asari and turians react differently than humans when their loved ones are in danger. Turians fight harder and fiercer. Asari get intensely focused. Humans get emotional and compromise themselves and do dumb shit and get killed. I will not mince words or pretend otherwise, T'Soni – you doing this WILL get Shepard killed. It is not a matter of if. One day, she will be forced into a situation in which it's your life or hers, and she'll give up hers. And it will be YOUR fault."

Liara flinched, and inside her mind want to scream out a denial. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm, trying not to clench her fists quite so tightly. "If that is the case, Admiral, it seems unwise that both her commanders and her Commissars are allowing the situation to go forward."

He snorted. "The ugly truth is that almost every case of fraternization in our military history has ended up getting someone killed, or putting someone in a position they simply aren't prepared for. The people in charge of Shepard feel that splitting you up would make her unmanageable or reduce her effectiveness. They point out that Shepard got the job done with you by her side and it didn't make her more vulnerable. I don't buy that, but since no one fucking bothered to ask me what I think, all I can do is make sure you can at least not put yourself in a situation where she'll have to rescue you anytime soon."

Liara winced. "I have tried my best to be … useful. It is part of the reason I am here, after all, Admiral. I do not wish to be a burden to her, much less a danger or something that makes her job more difficult than it already is. But I cannot simply undo what she and I have, even if I was willing to do so."

He folded his arms. "I'm not saying all this just to bitch at you for banging Shepard. When it happened the first time, you were a civilian, and I'm not the one to make the call on if that as a good or bad thing. God knows I couldn't have done a single thing with the bloodthirsty little bitch she was before you came along. Nor am I saying that you should blame yourself for this. She knew better."

He held up a stubby finger. "But you are no longer a civilian, and we're not talking about _her_ fuckups right now. You are an officer of the Systems Alliance. Your focus, your skills, and your life is now in service of the billions of people counting on you. You cannot afford to let emotion, or fear for her, or anything else stand between you and duty. The only way I will sign off on this bullshit is if I know that you can actually do the goddamned job you were handed, and that you are prepared to take steps so that your own inabilities don't get her killed."

He tapped his omnitool. "I am going to evaluate you, as if you were a prospective officer. I am going to test your physical strength and stamina, your agility, and your reaction times. I am going to assess your weapons skills and unarmed combat ability. I will asses your biotics, and most importantly, your ability to think. Others will test how good you are at actual science that doesn't involve digging up dinosaurs or whatever the shit you did."

She didn't get a chance to correct him, because he talked over her. "I suspect I am going to find you are an out-of-shape civilian with high level biotic skills and some specialized science knowledge that has little use on a warship. That means I have five weeks to turn you into someone who can actually not die when on a battle field. I don't like this, but I have no choice and I refuse to half-ass it."

He paused. "You're not cut out to be a killer, T'Soni. You can still back out of this."

She lifted her chin. "No, I cannot, Admiral. I gave an oath to the Systems Alliance, and my people take those very seriously. And if I am to be a part of Shepard's life, then I cannot allow myself to be a weakness."

He nodded. "Then let's see how determined you are."

O-ATTWN-O

The assessment had gone poorly in her opinion. When a man such as Ahern was kind, Liara felt, it was almost an insult.

Her physical strength and reactions he found to be very poor, and her agility subpar. Her reach was good, according to him, but her balance was bad. Liara had always striven to be graceful, like her memories of her mother, but Ahern made a mockery of that, calling it stiff and liable to get her shot.

When she augmented her strength and speed with biotics, he found her acceptable, but reminded her pointedly that she was most likely to need to rely on physical aspects when she was too exhausted to draw on the Art. "Don't your own commandos say that?"

She nodded. "To rely on the waves for power is to be helpless on a calm day."

He snorted. "Asari wisdom is as bad as hanar poetry."

Most of her shortcomings were physical, and according to him, easily fixed with exercise, training and what he called 'elbow grease', a term she failed to understand. It was not all bad points. She discovered she was good at reacting to sudden motions, and that she had a natural talent for following even the most complex chains of instructions when he took her through a series of poses to determine her flexibility.

Her most serious lack,in his eyes, was mobility. "Speed is life, Lieutenant Commander. You stand still on a battlefield and sooner or later some bastard with a sniper rifle is going to turn your pretty little ass into a corpse."

Part of her lack of mobility he attributed to her armor. "T'Soni, Shepard has a fixation on big things. Big guns, big explosions, big biotics." He gave a pointed glance at her chest and shook his head. "You get the idea. The problem with 'big' is that it's cumbersome and slow. To a degree, that's fine for her, since she can leap all over the goddamned place like a pyjak on crack. But her fixation on big has lead to you wearing the armor you have on now. Kassa Fabrication makes fine armor – designed for heavily muscled veterans, big guys who have been humping twenty kilos for years and who aren't gonna need to get out of the way of incoming fire anyway."

"The fact that you are able of using one of their lighter suits and actually are mobile in combat is, in it's own fucked up way, impressive. Stupid, but impressive. But it's slowing you down, and it's a drain on your ability to hurl blue magical bullshit, which is your biggest selling point. Aide! Fitting drone and measure. Bring me some of Mira's old sets."

He'd brought over several armor suits, many of them designed for human biotics. They were light-weight, relying mostly on small eezo generators to boost the effectiveness of the user's barrier, but several also had bands of omni-armor that could be deployed for lightweight, tough protection. He had her try on several, and testing the range of motion and ease of movement in each.

She found them all much lighter and easier to move in than the armor she had picked out, but also more agreeable in most ways than the set of marine armor she'd used prior to that. The shoulders moved in an odd fashion and the back was indecently tight against certain parts of her anatomy...but it was comfortable. After almost twenty minutes, Ahern decided on one of the brands with omni-armor, and once again summoned his aide.

"Take this set over to Commander Niresta over in Asari Ops. Have her refit the electronics and customize it to fit an asari – the shoulder pieces have to be swapped, and padding placed around the lower waist and the small of the back. The chest also needs to be let out, since Mira couldn't even rock a B-cup. Then have Uniform Services paint it stock for LTC Science and ship it to the Kazan." He turned back to Liara. "That Colossus armor you picked for yourself. It's not a bad suit, but it's not close to what you need to be wearing. Take this as a lesson – almost anything a special forces soldier recommends is a bad idea for normal people to use. Now, weapons."

Her omnitool blade had actually made Ahern snicker, given it's origins as tool for removing debris. He had given her an upgrade to a milspec omniblade and said they'd go over that later. But when she had pulled out the pistol Shepard had made for her and displayed it's dual functions, the man had cackled in glee. "Now THAT is a goddamned weapon. Perfect. A submachine gun would be a waste of time, and anything heavier would be stupid, but this..." He shook his head, and asked to fire a few rounds.

She watched as he tested both modes, frowning a bit at the shotgun's blast pattern, but intrigued at the burning wreckage it made of the target panel. "Good recoil adjustment. Firing pattern is tight on the pistol mode, heavy enough to handle armor but fires rapidly enough to handle closing targets. Generous heatsink capacity. Choke is a bit loose on the shotgun, but she's made it adjustable so that's not a big problem."

He looked up at her,something she couldn't read in his eyes. "She made this for you, huh? Guessing she made it custom." His voice had an odd note in it, and he actually gave her a smile. "T'Soni, if you are smart, you will take very good care of this weapon and not waste time learning another. Maybe she's not being as stupid about this as I thought."

He'd shown her several pistol stances that could be altered into bracing positions for a shotgun. Unlike with Shepard, he rarely raised his voice, although his level of profanity tended to increase if she didn't pick up something the first time. She asked him questions about why she was doing this or that, and he took these in calm fashion, explaining the whys behind certain stances.

In some ways, he reminded her of Shiala,in his very patient willingness to put up with what she knew had to be stupid questions. In other ways, especially when she was able to pick up a concept like deflection shots quickly, he was almost friendly. Almost. She remembered his words from the first day – he felt she would get Shepard killed. That pushed her to dig down and work harder, in a way she had not done since her early work in archeology.

O-ATTWN-O

Monday afternoons became her weapons training days. She would fire rounds at a variety of targets, some moving, some static. He would switch up ranges, forcing her to shift from pistol to shotgun and back, and to choose appropriate cover to fire from.

She fired until her wrists and shoulders ached, until her knees were raw from throwing herself into kneeling cover and there were light bruises on her forearms from bracing her arms on barricades. Gradually, under his acerbic remarks and instruction, she became more accurate.

"Never bother with headshots. In fact, never bother with tricky stupid shots at all. Go for center mass, every time. The only things that you can't kill with body shots are krogan, and frankly if you have to fight them you're better off using your biotics than a gun anyway. Keep your goddamned back straight! You slump, and you lose the bracing that keeps your aim steady!"

Wednesday afternoon was martial arts and close quarters combat training. The first day had been somewhat enlightening. She admitted she had no experience of any kind in hand to hand combat, and he'd sighed in disgust before telling her to listen.

"Close quarters combat should always be the very last resort for you. You're a big girl, not some tiny fragile thing, but you don't have the mindset for fighting up close and personal. That isn't always a bad thing – Michael Saracino was the finest sniper in the galaxy, but the man threw punches like a sissy and flinched if you got within a fucking foot of him."

She nodded. "My trainers in my youth felt it was … inappropriate to teach me the arts of ch'thus, or the way of biotic striking. It was for … lesser beings."

He snorted, then smiled thinly. "Heh. I guess I shouldn't be surprised at that. At least you won't have to unlearn anything. I would assume the asari have all kinds of martial arts, but the problem with all of the ones I know of is that they incorporate and require biotics. Why do you think that's a stupid thing for someone like you to bother learning?"

She gave the question some thought before replying. "Anyone familiar with me will know my only real danger comes from my biotic ability, and will seek to neutralize them. Anyone attempting to attack in close quarters will be doubly sure to do so before hand."

He nodded. "Exactly. What you need is a form that allows you to neutralize a target and get them in a position where they can be killed quickly or you can fall back. Now, plenty of people swear by judo, or the biotic version, judotics. God, I get sick of hearing about judotics."

He grimaced, and gestured wildly at the air. "I think it's stupid, since judo has two big weaknesses. First, you don't have any good striking capability. It relies on throws and tosses, and while it uses leverage and all that shit, it also presumes you can disable someone by throws. Humans, you can disable like that. Turians and fucking drell, not so much. Krogan, not at all. Saw a biotic judoka try once. Krogan bit his goddamned arm off, then tore stupid bastard in half like a ketchup packet. Served him right."

He exhaled as Liara's face screwed up at his gruesome imagery. "Second, if you come up against a smart foe, they'll go after your legs, which forces you to protect them. Except judo doesn't have any goddamned moves to protect your legs. So you end up fucking wrestling, and you will lose that way, because we both know the only thing you've wrestled with in your life is probably paperwork, and five weeks isn't enough to train you on that."

She nodded hesitantly. "Shepard was once telling me about kicking … "

Ahern sighed. "Let's not even talk about all the dumb shit I had to beat out of Shepard's combat style. Instead of wasting time on stupid John Woo III bullshit, I'm going to show you a mixed form of a very old human martial art called aikido, combined with a form of drell killing art known as zurshais. Both emphasize a few of the same things as judo – blending your movements with the motions of the attacker, redirecting the force of the attack rather than opposing it head-on. They differ in that aikido is what we call 'soft'. You'll be locking an enemy down and restraining him, rather than trying to do damage like judo. Judo relies on _human _joint configurations and limits, aikido is pure physics. "

"Zurshais is the other half, teaching you how to combine your blocks and throws with lethal strikes to vulnerable locations, mostly one-hit kills. You will turn the enemy's strength against him and then fucking kill him before he can react. I'll teach you a pair of locations for each race. Most are simple. Humans, throat strike, or palm strike to the base of the nose. Asari, same places. Funny how that works. Turians, the hollow just below the jaw, or a hammer punch to the lower heart – does something to their blood pressure. Drell, thyoid bone or just above the crown of the eyes, where the scales hook in."

As she learned, he stressed her ability would be only as good as her physical training, but he told her he would leave that to others. He instead carefully walked her through the motions, ruthlessly correcting her stances and positions, using haptic dummies and having her watch training videos to augment the forms and stances he showed her.

"Five weeks isn't enough to give you more than basics, T'Soni. Remember this. Keep it fast, simple and direct. You get into serious brawling with anybody other than a volus and you're going to be in a world of hurt – you can't train this kind of thing that fast. If you are smart, once you move on from here you will spend time every week continuing to learn and drill."

O-ATTWN-O

While he was drilling Shepard on Monday and Wednesday mornings, she was being put through an intense physical regimen by Commissar Susan, who volunteered to help some of Ahern's drill instructors. Endless pushups, situps, and two mile runs, followed by muscle straining exercises on resistance machines.

The drill instructors focused on what they called 'burn sets', or repeated and rapid activities to engage the natural asari ability to regenerate and rebuild muscle mass quickly. Humans, she learned could only 'bulk up' relatively slowly, although they would reach much greater strength than asari. Asari muscles, different in configuration and evolved for long endurance hunting, could rapidly adapt and tighten in response to pressure.

Susan had her combine such things with focused use of biotics, such as lifting heavy weights while trying to do pushups, or maintain a bubble of biotic energy in tandem with straining her legs on isolation machines. She would encourage Liara, or distract her from the agony in her arms and legs with funny anecdotes or remarkably adept imitations of how other crew members reacted to Ahern's tyrannical training.

"So Ahern is, of course, livid by this point, and asks Joker what kind of 'goddamned love boat' was Shepard running. Joker scratches his head and says 'Weell...there was Garrus and Telanya. Oh, and Ash and Kaiden. And then Friggs and the drunk asari, and Pressly and like six girls from the Consort. Oh oh, and this hottie of a tac ops was arrested for public indecency with two hanar. Or five. I forget. That doesn't even COUNT all the panties thrown after we got on leave...or when we were on Thessia...'"

Susan had stripped off her greatcoat and donned workout gear to exercise alongside Liara, displaying hard, lithe muscles and a frightening number of scars and old slashes all over her back and legs. She worked as hard as Liara did, giving the asari something to measure herself against, even if she always ended up giving out before the Commissar.

The drill instructors had relied mostly on a mix of human and asari exercise methods, but Susan brought in other alien ones, including turian jump lifts and drell biotic resistance training, using one's biotics to increase weight and strain when lifting or pulling weights. Some of the exercises were cobbled together from extranet reports on asari huntress training, others were modified sets Susan claimed she'd had to do in Commissariat training.

Two days a week, Liara rested her sore body as she learned more about being a science officer, working with the Science Team of Pinnacle station and her own subordinates. She spent hours studying particle physics and ship emission curves, and began to find a certain beauty and elegance in the hard math required to calculate and tease out the subtle hints left after a battle or by a fleeing ship. More time was spent simply reading, absorbing as much as she could on procedure, methods, and best practices, much as she had done when younger.

Friday was always spent in biotic training, mostly against Susan and Jiong. While individually their biotics were no match for hers, they worked together like a single machine, picking up on subtle cues Liara couldn't see to react to her own attacks. They had her go through every skill she knew, and experiment with other skills. Her singularity remained her strongest direct attack, and she was able to control a second after several hours of concentrated focus. She tightened her control of her warps and throws, and managed to find better ways to hurl a flare without being exhausted afterward.

But they also taught her what they called 'stupid Commissariat tricks' – their term for small uses of biotics in unexpected methods. These were to surprise and throw off a foe's ability to pin down or even hit a Commissar, such as weak barriers anchored to a push to knock aside smoke or gas, or the creative combination of warp, throw, and any kind of debris to make a sort of shield-ripping 'shotgun'.

The favorite new skill she picked up was an older human pastime they called biotic parkour, using biotic lifts and jumps to avoid and maneuver around and over terrain, maintaining as much movement speed and momentum as possible.

"The faster you move like this, the less time an enemy can hit you. If you dodge enough they will get frustrated and angry, making them sloppy." Jiong had smiled, demonstrating his ability as she tried to tag him with small bursts of warpfire, sliding past one to hand-stand off a nearby wall to avoid another.

Susan had nodded. "And just think how fun it will be to pull this off when Ahern tries to pin you down at your next free for all!"

O-ATTWN-O

The Saturday 'free for all' she got dragged into was, at first, little more than an excuse for Ahern to humiliate them all. By the third week, however,she realized she was seeing improvements. Moving from cover to cover was no longer leaving her winded, and her ability to incorporate both her lighter armor and parkour into her motion was indeed a vast aid.

"STOP GODDAMNED RUNNING UP WALLS, T'SONI!" Ahern bellowed, trying and failing to lock her up with rapid fire pistol shots and a flash bang, then being forced to duck her return biotic shockwave.

Shepard and Tali both snickered.

"I am sorry, Admiral, but that would be unwise." She jerked back from more pistol fire, before keeping her barrier locked in place and rolling out of sight to a new piece of cover. She leapt up and hurled the fastest throw she could, and grinned as it actually hit him dead on, sending him sprawling.

Shepard and Tali pounced on the opening, only to receive lightning fast kicks and end up 'dead'. She followed soon after, but he'd praised her for the improvements she had shown. "You fooled me with that barrier, T'Soni. The throw – the way Shepard and Zorah here took advantage of it – was excellent. I'm officially upgrading you three from 'hopeless' to 'only slightly retarded'. Congratulations. Now , do it again, this time without DYING. There are three of you and I'm fifty six goddamned years old."

By the fourth week, she was far more confident in her skills … and utterly spent. Awakening every morning hurt, flares of agony across her knees , shoulders, and feet. Shepard had gotten a tissue and bone regenerator installed in her quarters, and Liara made regular use of it, wincing against hairline fractures caused by too much stress or too hard a throw. She'd also gone to Dr. Sedanya, who'd given her a range of asari-specific painkillers and suggested soaking in hot baths at the end of the day to loosen muscles.

It didn't help that she felt mentally overloaded as well. She'd crammed for tests and the like in her university days, and had often been required to absorb large amounts of information during dig planning meetings, but she'd been well rested for those. It became difficult to be sure how much of the science training was going to stick with her after they departed from Pinnacle, and she took the opportunity to order as many manuals and books as she could, as well as bookmarking dozens of extranet sites.

The lead science officer of the base felt she had a good grounding – perhaps with weak spots, but as he had said, "No science officer can be truly interdisciplinary. You have a staff, cultivate them to learn what you can't." Still, even if she could now look at the science display and not have to constantly ask for help from her subordinates, she didn't feel as comfortable as she could have wished.

O-ATTWN-O

The Thursday of the fourth week had left her with a sprained ankle,and she sat bonelessly in Susan's tiny quarters aboard the Kazan, her ankle propped up and wrapped in chilled stabilization wrappings topped and hardened with omnigel, as Susan sat across from her.

They'd been working on her parkour when Liara had slipped. The injury was not bad, but it was very painful, and Liara was tired enough that using her biotics to lighten her weight was too draining to keep up for long.

Susan had used her own biotics, helping Liara back to the Kazan. They had first gone to medical, only to find the staff all ashore. Relying on her first-aid training, Susan had carefully wrapped the ankle and carried Liara down to her own quarters, deciding this was as good a time as any to chat while they waited for the medics to return.

"So. We've been very busy, Lady Liara. You've really been working hard, and even if Admiral Grumpypants won't say it, I think he's at least a little bit impressed." The commissar handed Liara a damp, warm cloth, which the asari gratefully placed over her face, before wiping her eyes with it and sighing.

"While I admit that is a somewhat encouraging thought, I am not sure how much more of this training I am able to handle, Susan." Her voice felt and sounded tired, as she rubbed the bruising on her crests from being bounced around earlier that day in training.

Susan looked almost disgustingly unaffected by their workout, a faint gleam of sweat dotting her forehead. She drank deeply from a bottle of chilled ice water and then laughed. "One more week and you can relax, Lady Liara. And look at you! You look amazing after this kind of burn."

Liara gave a weak laugh at that. She had never considered herself 'out of shape' – asari metabolism was too high for any but the most gluttonous to gain much body fat. But she had to admit, muscles were beginning to show in places where only softness had shown before.

She sighed, wiping her face again with the damp cloth Susan had given her. "While that is true, I feel … battered. Not just physically. Mentally, from all I have been forced to absorb. Emotionally. Ahern says that Sara's concern for me and our bond will someday get her killed. I have done my best to improve, but I worry it is not enough."

She fingered the cloth, before running it between the segments of her crest. "And Shepard is struggling as well, and is fighting a lot of self-doubt and anger and depression. It tends to drag me down at times, and I try to not let my own fatigue and worry affect her. We have not joined since this training started, and I am growing worried and distracted."

Susan smirked. "Well... you have to figure, the training itself is hard on her, too. She has some pride in her skills, and it's probably hard on her to go from 'galactic super-badass' to 'being slapped around by an old man'."

Liara shook her head. "It is something darker than that."

Susan nodded, her voice cautious. "She's got a lot on her mind. One thing she probably learned was some stuff about the SA we limit to O6 – captain/major – and above. That is always hard for people to get over, especially someone like Shepard. She's the type of person who is … a touch naïve about certain things."

Liara sighed, and looked away. "I was under the impression she had already been made aware of some of the less savory acts of your government, both by our interactions with Cerberus's vile base and other sources."

Susan shrugged, half turning away to dig in her small cabinet for something. "I can't go into any details. I will say this. It's one thing to learn that there are a few bad apples in society, or that some people are doing Very Bad Things. It's another to realize the scope and scale of it all. I think Shepard was hoping against hope that things were different than they really are, and it's sinking in." She shrugged. "Honestly, I figured you'd already know … from the bond and all."

She crowed with delight. "Aha! Comb."

Liara shook her head. "When inactive, the bond is just a loose sense of emotions, a jumble of ... feelings. And we have not … er, done anything else since training started."

Susan arched an eyebrow, while running the comb through her long hair, smoothing tangles. "That's a bit surprising. Why is that?"

Liara made a sigh of a mix of many things, longing, frustration, and disappointment. "Many reasons, most of which have to do with the fact that we are both exhausted and beaten half to death when we are done for the day. It is, frankly, rarely arousing to attempt such things when you are exhausted and sweaty, and after a shower all I want to do is sleep."

She paused. "Also, I do not want to turn what we have into some kind of coping or release mechanism. And according to Dr. Sedanya, using it as such would be .. unhealthy." Liara shrugged. "I will admit to a certain level of anticipation of this training being over and us being able to be as one in body as well as spirit,but it is merely one more facet of life."

Liara flexed her ankle, wincing. "I'm more worried about Sara's state of mind, and ability to relax, I suppose, than my own. I waited for years, a few weeks delay will only sharpen my enjoyment."

Susan leaned back in the chair, twisting her hair into a tight ponytail before scrabbling in her desk for a scrunchy to tie it off. "I think if you're worried about her ability to relax, you should spent some time with her and relax." She paused. "Fuck, that sounded so blonde. But you get what I mean."

Liara smiled weakly."I do. And I have tried to focus on that, actually. We spend almost all of every Sunday together, but Shepard is worried about rumors. The bridge is very busy most days with the refit and inspection teams, and the training overseers, and there are many eyes watching who heads towards her stateroom. It is easier to not take chances and to merely … what is the term? Hang out?"

Susan shrugged. "Sounds like an excuse for you not to sit her down and have a serious talk with her, Lady Liara. But I guess you have time for that later, and since you are worried about her relaxing, going into super serious mode would mess with that. What _do_ you do on Sundays, anyway?"

Liara smiled wider. "Rest and recover, mostly. I have been talking with her. About her past, and Rachel Florez. About Benezia. About what we plan to happen in our future." She paused. "There is a lot of pain in both of our pasts. We cannot simply ignore it, and we cannot focus on it to the exclusion of all else. Parts of her never had a chance to grow, or be loved. Parts of her are still bleeding inside, and she tries so hard to not let them affect me."

Liara sighed. "But I will not let her wander down bad memories alone. I think that is what matters most. Our bond is wonderful, our lovemaking is … indescribable. But merely feeling me there next to her,or hearing my voice – there are times she is merely content to stare at me and I am overwhelmed with her happiness."

Susan nodded, her own face somewhat blank. Liara winced, and Susan's lips curled very slightly. "Oh,don't worry about me. Still, that sounds … a touch sad,I think. Don't you do anything else besides angst out and then go all starry eyed at each other?"

Liara folded her arms. "We do not … that is... never mind." She shook her head. "You are teasing me. I am finding myself better at picking up on that. And yes, we do. On occasion we discuss simpler things. Many times we simply talk, sometimes to Tali or to Cole. And there are plenty of times we just try to enjoy each other, and life itself – last Sunday she insisted I watch this 'Star Wars' with her, and I have now discovered the food you call popcorn."

Susan giggled, and Liara continued. "On days we are not exhausted, Shepard has been attempting to teach me the kanquess, although progress is … erratic. I managed to put myself into a closet once, and ended up … er, shooting off most of my clothing rather than my body another time."

The commissar stared at her before cracking up. "Now, that's one hell of a strip-tease routine!"

Liara blushed, feeling heat in her crests and shaking her head. "It was not amusing, Susan, when I also had to listen to the so-called 'appreciative' comments of Mr. Dallas, who was passing through the cargo bay where we were training. It was, however, amusing to see him lifted and brought face to face with Sara biotically and threatened with castration."

Susan chuckled, drinking more water. "Ah, that guy. I actually caught him checking me out. That takes real balls, and a real empty head." She laughed openly. "Anyway...how's the ankle? Still throbbing?"

Liara sighed. "Less so now." She glanced back at the commissar. "I doubt you asked me in here to merely suggest I spend more time in relaxation and ask after my condition."

Susan shrugged. "No...although suggesting you get in Shepard's pants to let off steam isn't a bad idea. Still, you're right." She placed her hands together. "I've been doing a lot of thinking of how I'm going to get you through the situation you are in, and I wanted to talk about it real quick. You're not some kind of nutjob that needs a padded room, but you do have issues and I think attacking them head on is better than some kind of slow adjustment."

She paused. "You have three things that are blocking you from where you need to be. First, you have a lack of goals. Without a firm finish line, it's hard to see the progress you've made, much less figure out which direction to run in. Second, you have a lot of recent emotional trauma and not a lot of people to talk to about it. Finally, you have had, until recently, no way to show you that you're not some kind of burden on Shepard."

She paused. "The training, I think,has helped with the last."

Liara nodded cautiously. "I do not feel as if I am … helpless. I am certainly no match for a trained soldier yet, but I have a grounding in how to at least ensure I can defend myself competently."

Susan nodded. "Yep. You are not helpless, but that's not what I meant by a burden, really. You once had a long conversation with Lieutenant Alenko about feeling useless on the Normandy, on having nothing to do. Being given a task – a sciency one, even – and having responsibility has given you something to do beside feel like a fifth wheel."

The commissar rotated her shoulder, wincing as it made a popping noise. "But when I'm talking about goals, I mean … well, long term plans, things you dream about. Goals are going to harder for you, because I think you've gone a long time going after things you actually doubt you'll get. Can you name your goals in the past?"

Liara smiled sadly. "I wanted my mother to be proud of my work, and my achievements. I wanted to be the Head of Prothean Studies for the University of Serrice. I wanted my theories and work to be seen as something besides a laughing-stock." She paused. "I wanted to have my family look on me with love and affection, not scorn, indifference or disgust. I wanted … I wanted people to see the Protheans, not just their technology and weapons. To see their culture and not just their death, but their life."

She swallowed."When all that fell apart, I wanted Shepard to look on me as something besides a silly, foolish girl with silly, foolish problems she had to keep from getting killed..."

Susan snorted. "Well, I think you achieved that last."

Liara smiled. "I did, but … I almost did not. If I had not been prodded, perhaps, by the words of Mr. Dunn, I do not know if I would have had the fear, or bravery, or desperation to force Sara to listen to me that night. A part of me still cannot believe I did so."

She closed her eyes, and her smile grew. "I do not regret it."

Susan laughed. "Rocked your world, Doctor?"

Liara shrugged. "I will simply say it was … the most beautiful experience I have ever felt, or will feel. It was as if all the disappointments and failures in my life had melted away for one night, and all that mattered was she and I. No ship. No chase to save a galaxy. No worries about not being good enough." She felt her smile widen helplessly. "Shepard is not a romantic. But in her soul, that night, I was a goddess. I …"

She wrapped her arms around herself, and Susan nodded. "And your goal now?"

Liara looked up, her eyes determined. "To stay with her and support her, to keep her alive,and well loved."

Susan scratched her temple. "I guess that is a goal. But what does Liara T'Soni want to achieve? Do you not care about the things you pursued before?"

Liara's face turned thoughtful. "Before I saw her die, I was able to hear my mother say she had always been proud of me. I have sat on the throne of the T'Soni, held the reins of the Family in my hand, to cast away or grip. I've been complemented, however narrowly, by the highest of my people." She let her arms fall, pursing her lips.

"The goals I had chased so hard were less about my true wants, I think, and more things I could have thrown in my mother's face to show her that she was wrong." She glanced down. "In the end, they were ultimately meaningless."

Susan frowned. "That? That right there is what I mean. You spent fifty years studying Protheans. Don't tell me you are going to decide that it's all meaningless. Don't tell me you are going to walk away from it and just be ...whatever the asari version of a housewife is. Ambitions drive people, Lady Liara."

Liara rubbed her neck. "I … many of my priorities shifted that night Sara and I bonded. In a very real way, the old Liara T'Soni died that night, Commissar. I never agreed with the goals and the direction of many of the Prothean Studies departments at asari universities,and yet I wished to be feted as one of them? Those were .. silly dreams, not goals." She made a sound of frustration. "I know what you are saying. My interest in the Protheans has not waned, nor has my desire to learn about them. But I cannot say that I long for achievement in that manner."

Susan's pretty features wrinkled in befuddlement. "Then what … I'm sorry. I'm looking at this from a very human point of view, which is completely silly of me. I know that asari value bonds more highly than almost anything, enough so that sometimes when a bondmate dies the survivor cannot find the strength to go on."

She chose her words carefully, watching Liara. "But what do you want independent of Shepard? What can you seek to be, to achieve, that lets you stand on your own two feet beside her rather than behind her?"

Liara considered the question. "I suppose the only honest thing to say is that I do not know. Asari do not have the urgency of humans when it comes to such ideals, given that we have centuries of life to explore and experience." Her expression turned sad. "Given how long humans live, there is every possibility that my own goals while she lives will be supporting and loving her. I fear every day that the violence and danger around us will take her from me .. and I could not bring myself to waste time I might be with her on pursuing something solely for myself."

Susan sat back, folding her arms under her breasts, and thought that one over, her face a picture of concentration. "I think the saddest thing about you, Lady Liara … is that you have no sense of … who you are. Or should be."

Liara tilted her head. "I am not sure what you mean."

Susan exhaled, narrowing her eyes. "You define yourself by what you are, or what use you are to someone else, instead of who you are, and what you want. You spent half your life chasing things that were unattainable. I think if you had achieved any of them, you'd have thrown yourself into your career and never stopped to be a person, to find love, to experience life. And now that you 'achieved' Shepard … you're setting yourself aside for her."

Susan's expression was sad, the planes of her face frustrated. "You don't know what you want because you tell yourself what you want doesn't matter as long as Shepard is happy, but that makes it harder on Shepard. It's not helping her to find her own balance if she can't find anyway to help you in your own life. It's going to end up making her feel like she's using you … because that's what you want."

Liara bit her lip. "Just because I have not determined my path in life does not mean I am letting myself be used, Susan."

The little commissar grimaced. "Really? If the situation was reversed, if you had been forced into leading your House, and the only way for you to be together was for Shepard to resign her commissions and Spectre status to fill some role in your entourage, if she put aside her hobbies of designing weapons and worried all the time about if she was good enough for you … what would you feel or think?"

Susan's commlink barked before Liara could respond. "This is Medical, we're back on board. You said you had an issue with LTC T'Soni being injured?"

Susan exhaled and nodded. "Yes, Medical, we'll be right there." She clicked off. "Just think about what I am saying, Lady Liara. It's good that you want Shepard to be able to move on, to enjoy life. It's great you want to help her. But if you abandon yourself, you will simply end up causing her more pain – and this pain you won't be able to fix."

O-ATTWN-O

The final Sunday before the end of the five-week training session ended up with Shepard taking Liara down to the surface of Inter'sai via shuttle. They had discussed it before, but the last Sunday was the only time where most of the rest of the crew would be on Pinnacle Station, taking part in the various First Contact day parties that would go on all during the night.

Inter'sai was a rugged, beautiful world, carefully terraformed and with a certain fresh vitality to the small communities that dotted the landscape. Lush grasses competed in calm counterpoint with willowy fronds of natural cover, while trees had been planted in vast numbers around the colony – evergreens and cypress trees, swaying in the breeze.

Rather than boxy colony modules or stark, bold colony towers, the people of Inter'sai built clusters of low-slung sloping plascrete buildings, linked with low walls and flanked by narrow rich farm enclosures. The main city, Haddick, was little more than a cleverly disguised broken down pair of colony vessels, recycled and shaped into attractive buildings through landscaping. Sheets of granite flanked tumbling waterfalls and narrow paths neatly paved with interlocking stone surfaces, while cheerful humans worked at small omnifoundries or tended their fields.

Shepard rented a rover and they spent half the day driving, with Sara describing some of the more exotic locales she'd seen as a marine, and Liara reciprocating with stories of her time in the Dark Rim salarian colony of Urchas on a dig. They avoided serious topics, Shepard shying away from anything about her later years of military service after Torfan, Liara rarely mentioning her own youth.

Shepard's usual lack of driving skill was muted, as she kept the speed low, focused instead on listening to Liara.

When they stopped, it was atop a giant cliff face overlooking the lowlands. A brilliant rose-tinted sky was filled with heavy, indistinct gray clouds, the planet's three moons huge in the fading sunset sky. Endless trees seemed to cover all directions, as Shepard and Liara sat near of the cliff, backs against a rocky outcrop atop it, holding hands.

"I never thought I'd see the day, but I'm sooo fucking glad this shit is over, Liara. Everything hurts except my hair."

Liara smiled, then tilted her head. "I too find myself exhausted. But .. I was not aware that human hair had pain nerves. Does that not make cutting it rather –"

Sara laughed, gently. "No. No nerves. Just a figure of speech, I suppose." She trailed a finger down Liara's wrist, blue eyes seeking hers. "I am glad you are here. Getting through this would have been a lot harder without you reminding me what I am doing this for."

The asari kissed her, gently at first, then deeply, drawing back only after her heart began to pound. "I... am glad I am here, beloved. The ocean is more than the waves upon it's surface. I feel the same way about you, Sara. There is …"

Sara turned to face her. "What's wrong?"

Liara shook her head. "Nothing is wrong, Sara. The words 'I love you' feel and seem so … trite and small. They are not enough." She squeezed Sara's hands,letting emotions surge through them both, then let them go to place her hands on Shepard's face, framing her lovely features, staring into those wounded, dark eyes. "I am always here, Sara." She kissed her again, nearly weeping, and Sara just held her.

She could feel Liara's emotions bouncing all over the place, and her own, for that matter. It was happiness...and it was fear. She gently pulled back, lifting Liara's chin. "What is _wrong, _marazul?"

Liara swallowed. "I just found myself wondering what I would do without you filling my life. And I realized … Susan and I talked about goals, a few days ago. About what I wanted, about my dreams and ambitions. And I realized that despite how close we are, how far we have connected, I don't know yours. And I don't know my own. I feel …"

Liara paused, searching for words. "I am not lost, but I do not know what I will do. I remain interested in the Protheans, but the idea of throwing myself back into that work when we face such horrors seems as if I am hiding from reality. I don't know my place. In your life. In what I am to do." She looked down, her own insecurities eating at her.

Shepard nodded. "You said yourself the bond isn't mind reading. But those are pretty hard things to talk about." She smiled, and pulled Liara a bit closer, sitting side by side. She closed her eyes,just enjoying having Liara pressed against her.

Shepard found herself smiling. A part of her felt a little silly, but a part of her felt curiously light and free. When she spoke, her eyes were still closed, a little wistfulness in her voice. "My dreams..."

"I had a dream, of flying among the stars. I had a dream, of being able to put my past behind me. I had a dream, of … being able to live a life like a normal person. I had a dream of children, of being able to say my name with pride, of being loved and mattering more than anything else to someone."

She turned to Liara, squeezing her hand. "I was a sex-slave and a ganger. I'd never see space. I was a Z2 convict. I'd never put my past behind me. I was the Butcher of Torfan. I'd never live life like a normal person. I am barren. I'd never have children. My name was a byword for 'unstable sociopathic bitch.' I would never be able to say it with pride."

She swallowed. "The only person who ever showed interest in me as a lover lied to me, and told me I was a monster. The rest … abandoned me. I'd never have anyone love me like that."

Shepard exhaled, refocusing her gaze. "And yet...look at us. I'm the commander of a space fleet. I'm free of my restriction. I'm just like any other citizen. I'm an noble, at least on paper. My name is now being conflated with 'hero'."

She leaned over, kissing Liara again. "I'm in love with an brilliant, beautiful, wonderful asari, and we will have beautiful blue daughters one day, and I will never, ever fucking be alone, or worry about being unloved. You gave me all of this, Liara."

Liara shook her head, but Shepard stopped her with a finger on her lips. "Yes, you did. I had people who cared about me, I see that now. But none of them were willing to risk everything to reach me. They couldn't understand, or didn't know what to do. You saved me. You showed me I couldn't keep staring backwards. You let me feel how much you wanted _me – _even broken, even ruined, even an emotional wreck with a mind full of poison and bad memories."

She swallowed. "I can feel you. I don't mean the sex. I don't mean the bond. I can feel your soul, like sunshine on my face. I can't explain it. It's just there, Liara." She shook her head. "I don't know what you want out of life. I can't tell you that. Dreams are something that we let ourselves believe in when we are little, humans at least. I can only tell you that I have everything I could want, and if I have to drop it all tomorrow to help you reach your own dreams, I'd do it without a hesitation."

Liara swallowed. "I have no right to ask that of you."

Shepard snorted. "You have every right. You gave me my fucking _life." _She shook her head. "If this is how you get after talking with that D'Alte woman, she may need a beating."

Liara frowned. "No. She is … trying to help." She glanced back up. "You do not think that it is odd I cannot exactly define what I want out of life other than you, Sara?"

Shepard laughed, then shrugged. "Dreams are something I gave up on a long time ago, so I'm not sure what yours might be, or if you should or shouldn't have them. I mean, asari live a long time." She shrugged. "Maybe you had dreams when you were younger? Before all the other stuff...Protheans, worrying about your mom...didn't you have something like that?"

Liara let the tip of her crest lean against the rock. "Perhaps. When I was so young I could barely read or write, I remember a Justicar visiting my mother, seeking advice for some quest she was upon. She was so young, so full of life. Most Justicars are cold and icy, but this one, she laughed, and she paused to tell me how composed I was, and how much honor I would bring to my house one day."

Liara's lips twitched. "It was the first time anyone aside from my mother had complemented me. I remember asking Shiala what the Justicars did, and she told me 'they push back the darkness, and give of themselves that others may live without worry'."

Liara gave a little laugh. "I told my mother I wanted to be a Justicar. She was horrified. In hindsight, I can see why."

Shepard snorted. "The one I ran into didn't seem very self-sacrificing. Trampy and crazy, maybe. Plus, no sex."

Liara could not help the laughter that exploded out of her at that. "I am not sure if I am more amused that you consider the Justicars 'trampy' or that you see their major downfall as chastity."

Shepard muttered something about indecency, and Liara laughed again. "Oh, Shepard. I am beginning to regret not bringing more of my wardrobe with me."

Shepard rolled her eyes, then glanced out again at the horizon. "Still vetoing that shit. No Justicar." She paused.

"I can't say what you will do with your life, Liara. Everything I've wanted, I have. I get the feeling that a lot of what you wanted to achieve – your career, your writings, your work – you let go because you didn't want those things, but the acceptance those things would bring."

She took Liara's hand and squeezed it, sighing a little. "I don't want you to feel like you have to give up your life to be with me. At the same time, I think if you're with me, then we can try to find a goal for both of us. Together."

Liara nodded. "I would like that. And yet that is only half my fear." She swallowed. "Susan made me realize that all I am, all my hopes and wishes are … with you. About you. What if I lose that, Sara? What if you give yourself in being the very Justicar of my youth? If you are lost to me, dying to protect the weak, and in stopping the things to come? Am I to simply accept that it is inevitable?"

Shepard's lips curled into a smile. "Death is always inevitable, Liara. All you can do is remember me when I am gone. I don't plan on dying, on throwing this wonderful life and love away for something stupid. I don't plan on sacrificing myself if I can help it."

She leaned her head back, her raven hair spilling against the stone, the last rays of sunlight setting her eyes afire. Liara could only stare, lost in her beauty, as her voice took on a distant , sad note.

"I'd rather live and burn bright for an instant, than gutter and smolder in darkness for a lifetime. Everyone dies, Liara. It's not how you die, or when. It's not how hard you go out, or if you do it for a cause or because you are stupid."

Her voice hardened. "What matters is that you fucking don't leave anything undone. If I die tomorrow, if the goddamned Reapers show up and say 'chow time,bitches' … I'll die knowing that they had to get through me to get to you... and that you gave me my life." She paused. "And that before I died, you knew I loved you more than life itself."

Shepard sighed. "You aren't usually this … gloomy-doomy. What else bothering you?"

Liara swallowed, saying nothing, before shaking her head. "I worry about you. I have been, perhaps, more upset and confused because you are at times a roiling mass of anger and frustration and ...worse. Susan said you learned of hard truths, and that you were still processing it." She paused. "I did not want to come down here and ruin our time together... but just as I have been distracted with my concerns, so have you."

She looked up at her lover. "I am here, Sara, to listen to you, as you have listened to me."

Shepard closed her eyes, silent for long seconds. "I found out earlier this month about the truth of the SA. About what it does. About what aliens due. About how sick and fucking dark and goddamned stupid it all is. I cried and screamed, and I raged. I called David but I couldn't even say what I felt because who fucking knows what might be tapping on the line?"

She shook her head. "A part of me isn't even pissed at the SA any more. Because when I sit back and really, really think about it? The other races are fucking worse, Liara. The asari and salarians have had thousands of years, and they are STILL doing underhanded sick bullshit. They're not doing it to protect themselves. They're not doing it because it has to be done, even though they hate it."

She laughed. "I had to watch an old man tell me he supported something he hated, because he had no other choices. I wish the SA was different, and the only ones I can blame for it not being different are the same bitches that forced you to leave Thessia and come with me. I'm having problems seeing the difference between the old gang bosses and the leaders of the other races who back this bullshit."

She looked up. "I'm not going to be angry over it. It's depressing, but the only thing I can do is hope that we can find a way where the bullshit can be stopped. It's a fucked up day when I tell myself that I feel sorry for that bastard Dragunov, but I do, because he's too empty to realize all the shit he's done makes him even less fucking alive than I am."

Liara frowned. "How is he … less alive?"

Shepard smiled. "Because I have people who don't buy into that bullshit. Who won't give up on me. Because I sat next to you on a crappy couch, and listened to you tell me about your dig on Shava, and the thing with the space monkey, and the little turian boy, and I realized that rage and being pissed didn't make me feel alive. Just being with you did." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "And as sappy as it sounds, it's remembering that there's good stuff along with bad stuff that keeps me from turning into a goddamned soulless automaton like that asshole."

Shepard turned away, leaning against Liara on the rock face, closing her eyes in contentment. "Don't ever sell yourself short , Liara."

She was silent for several more seconds before speaking.

"One ...one of the girls in the Tenth Street Reds had a boy. Young. Maybe three of four. She would cut the throat of anyone who even made jokes about hurting him. She probably wasn't a very good mother - tripped on sand sometimes, and heroin, and boosted aircars and sold hacked chits for a living. Slept with anybody who'd have her, just for cash."

Shepard gave a weak smile. "And yet I was jealous of that kid, because at least his mother cared. She used to sing to him...sappy , syrupy sweet bullshit that made me boil inside, because no one sang to me to help me sleep."

She glanced down, then up again, looking at Liara. "I'm not stupid enough to believe in fairy-tales, Liara. Or that the power of love will undo all the sick fucking bullshit in this galaxy. But I can remember that no matter how dark it is, how far people fall, how fucked up things become, people can still care. Even people fucked down and out can care."

Shepard pulled Liara closer. "I don't need you to 'be' anything for me, Liara, except who you already are. I don't need you to be useful. I don't need you to fulfill some purpose. All I need is to know you want to be here with me, and that you haven't given up on me, and I can make it."

Liara kissed her. "That will never change, Sara. I will always be with you."


	9. Chapter 9 : Wastelands and Weddings

_**A/N:** Wrex. Garrus. Ask and ye shall receive._

_ATTWN doesn't really focus on these two - although Garrus plays a large role in the latter parts. I wanted to get some exploration of krogan and turian values into the story, as well as some insights into Wrex's past and issues with Garrus and his family._

_Those of you who like Aethyta and Benezia should check out **That Which Was Lost** by Dr. Jekyl. Those of you who like to cry should try a one-shot I wrote called 'Mother's Tears' that I feel is perhaps the best writing I have ever done. _

_If you have questions about some of what is referenced here, leave a review or PM and I will answer as fast as I can. :)_

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><p><em>'When your bond-mate has won 'Hottest Male in the Galaxy' awards from not just his own race, but asari, humans, and drell - yeah, you get a bit smug.'<em>

_- Citadel Security Executor Telanya Nasan Vakarian , 'Don't Like It? Kiss My Crest'_

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><p>Wrex grunted as he stepped off the battered CDEM shuttle, pausing a moment and staring out the grimy view-port upon the blasted, broken horizon of Tuchanka.<p>

Getting here had been a trial and a half, despite the short distance from the Widow Nebula to the Krogan DMZ. He'd been routed the long way around, unable to find a single ship going the direct way, and the turian liner he'd gotten passage on ended up nearly holed by a ragged force of batarian pirates and human Corsairs blasting each other.

The turian frigates and defense fighters escorting the liner had, he grudgingly admitted to himself, done a good job in tearing the batarians apart. Of course, then the stubborn idiots nearly got in a fight with the Corsairs, but the human in charge refused to rise to the bait and instead withdrew his force.

Even after getting to Aralakh, there was the fun of having to clear customs at the monstrously large orbital docking station of the Citadel Demilitarization Enforcement Mission. The CDEM, established after the Krogan Rebellions to prevent the Krogan from ever threatening Citadel space again, was simple, a blockade. It ghettoized the krogan, crippling them from ever rebuilding.

The concepts it operated on were simple: don't let the krogan build ships. Don't let them gain control of the planetary spaceport with it's associated GTS defenses. Don't allow any one krogan clan to gain dominance of Tuchanka. And don't let too many krogan emigrate off-world. And as such, most krogan never got off-world, and few who did ever bothered coming back.

None of that was particularly hard. Even at the height of their power, krogan were at best indifferent shipwrights. The economy of Tuchanka was very nearly non-existent, except for a few clans that dabbled in extreme-environment survival gear, selling their handmade suits to explorers after testing them against the worst Tuchanka could throw at them. The Citadel controlled the mining revenues of the rest of the Aralakh system in return for shipping in food, medical supplies, and the like. Only the elcor could withstand Tuchanka as well as the krogan, making them the only real merchants one found on it's surface.

If Wrex had just been another broken-down merc, he probably could have gotten past the CDEM pretty fast. The CDEM had no issues with most krogan returning to their home, and if they had a clean criminal record was even willing to let them leave again. But his very name raised hackles most times with the CDEM – getting off-world with Urv had taken a favor on his behalf from Aria, one he'd had to pay off by stomping down one of her rivals. 'Urdnot' was dangerous. It was the name of the only krogan warlord to crush a war priestess in single combat, a warlord who had outfought turians, stymied salarian STG teams, and very nearly toppled the Citadel Council.

On the wild sands, deadly hills and hellish alkaline fields of Tuchanka, names were power.

The station was as big and ugly as he remembered , but there were only a handful of turian cutters and frigates in dock, and a single heavy cruiser. The number of turians on board was low as well, and many of them looked too relaxed for turians. Rather than the usual varren-sniffing interrogation he was subjected to, they just waved him through.

Too many of them had the battered, worn look and ease of handling weapons of turian veterans, without the crisp mannerisms, sneering demeanor and razor-clean discipline Wrex associated with said turian veterans. There were also many more asari than he had remembered, almost all of them very young rather than the handful of matrons and matriarchs present on his last trip.

Still, Wrex decided not to press his luck and took a shuttle down to the only functional spaceport on the whole planet. The CDEM spaceport crouched on the edge of Radyos, the old capital of the Krogan Empire. The old city was surrounded by shredded hulks of kinetic-bombarded hills framing the tattered skyline, by a battered slum of badly weathered buildings broken up by a ring of haphazard fortifications – old starship hulls, bits of construction debris, piles of shattered buildings and rock. The broken pyramid that was once the Hall of the Urdnot was a crumbling mass in the center of the morass, and a haze of smoke from cooking fires and other less appealing sources dimmed the red-tinted sunlight.

The CDEM spaceport and garrison on the surface, by comparison, was all glittering blue steel, hardened kinetic barricades and the grim lines of turian architecture – sharp claw-like pillars, ugly lines like the curve of a turian skull, and the usual lack of any ornamentation that somehow offended something deeply krogan in Wrex. It bulked on the hills overlooking the city, like some slit-eyed predator mockingly watching the prey before pouncing to tear out it's life. The shuttle had been tracked by the lazy rotation of GTS batteries and automated defenses, a powerful kinetic shield snapping off to allow final decent.

The docking area was one-half reception and customs, one half killzone, littered with bunker-like fortification walls and overseen by a heavily reinforced set of balconies halfway up the wall with mounted automatic cannons to sweep the area in case of trouble. Turian snipers leaned against the walls here and there, powerful looking rifles within easy reach.

Wrex sniffed. Something was still off. The CDEM wasn't supposed to be relaxed. Pushing past the tiny bulk of the asari security officer standing next to the shuttle's exit, he stalked forward, heading directly for the short line of aliens he saw by the custom's and declaration desk.

Few non-krogan ever came to Tuchanka – the occasional batarian, here to hunt and prove his Blooding for high-caste status. A few adventuresome asari maidens looking for rough fun and a mate who won't die in a pitiful span of years. The rare elcor merchant, looking to make a quick turnover of his good. Mostly turians, hard bitten mercenary outcasts who made up the defenders of the garrison's outlying walls.

A few thousand asari and turians lived inside the soft glass bubble of fresh air and modern technology, along with a handful of salarians, monitoring the various sensor stations and weather relays. Information flew back and forth from the garrison to the orbital control station, which was in control of adjustments to the ring of orbital mirrors and massive shades that prevented Tuchanka from overheating.

A trio of older turian dreadnaughts hulked in high orbit, permanently pointed toward the planet, cannons and mass accelerators fixed on major population centers in case the krogan attempted a Third Rebellion.

Wrex sighed, flexing his fists and sniffing the chemically pure, dry, tasteless air. It smelled of turian sweat, the sweeter scent of asari maidens lust, the faintest hint of the dry peppery smell of salarian fear, and mostly the ugly hard tang of disinfectants and chemicals. He stomped forward, ignoring the glances of several turian security officers, before coming up to the high desk that read 'Inbounds' in both turian and Old Korogish.

The turian sitting at the desk was an older male, one eye occluded by a wide ugly scar that had actually splintered his plating. Rather than replace it with bionetics or cyberware, the turian had a black plate of metal screwed directly into his skull, krogan style. His armor was thick and scarred, if freshly painted in the CDEM color scheme, and his dark skin was set off by his dirty white plating and his one good, blazing purple eye.

A shining figure of the turian meritocracy, this was not.

Wrex was actually torn between being impressed at the sight of a turian with proper scars and the attitude of Tuchanka, and his usual disdain for anything he couldn't eat without vomiting back up.

The turians' voice was dry, almost bored. "A krogan. Returning to this vakar dungheap. Unusual. Name?"

Wrex folded his arms, spreading his massive shoulders and staring down at the turian. At least this one had a spine and didn't stink of fear. "Urdnot Wrex."

The turian had half turned to type in data and paused, slowly rotating his head to look hard at Wrex. "Welcome back, _sire._" The turian's tone had turned hard and cuttingly insulting, and Wrex actually smiled before leaning forward.

"The only thing the security guards in this place would do is hose your crushed corpse out of that chair if I decided to smash you to paste, bird. I am already in a bad mood." That, for Wrex, was quite a bit of restraint. A krogan returning to krantt and korgasi with news of blood-death of a son should not engage in violence until the Keening was complete, after all.

The turian was about to open it's stupid beak to no doubt sign it's own death warrant when a blue hand fell on the turian's left shoulder. "Vryusas, you should not be so reckless. Urdnot Wrex is too much a polarizing figure in krogan society to simply shoot him for being … rude."

The turian froze, his expression shifting from sneering to cold, searing fear and horror. Wrex had seen many a turian face certain death without a flicker of fear, but he'd never smelled one literally reek of terror before. And he didn't know why the turian would be scared of an asari, yet sneeringly dismissive of a ton of barely restrained krogan rage.

_Stupid turians. _

Wrex turned to look at the asari. Like most of the untrustworthy sluts, this one wore barely anything, a too-tight sheer cloth that hung down just below her breasts, and a longer skirt, both made of diaphanous and silky cloth in several layers. Her facial markings were white runes that circled the orbits of each eye, trailing down her cheeks and up her jawline before meeting between her breasts. Somehow she looked vaguely familiar.

That was _not _the CDEM uniform, not even close.

A leather belt, wide and worn, was slung slantwise across her hips, with a warp-sword on one side and a cut-down plasma-cutter with some sort of barrel attachment on the other. Those weren't a soldier's weapons either, and the warp sword was new, mass produced.

That meant a lot of money, and money had never flowed to the CDEM. It had been staffed with the types of turians that weren't worth promoting elsewhere, and the kind of asari that didn't take bribes.

Something was very, very wrong.

The krogan put his hands on the desk and leaned forward, mindful of the strange situation. He decided that he could afford his version of being polite. "I am headed home. All I need is clearance and for your stupid soldiers to stay out of my way. The faster you process me, the faster I can be gone. The longer you take, the more likely I am to get unreasonable."

The asari smiled, eyes flickering over him in a measuring manner. "No need for that, Cera Wrex. I can do that and more. We can give you transport, help you find Clan Urdnot – or what passes for it – even update you on the trail spoor and clan conditions. And the turians won't bother you any longer ... if you grant my mistress a few moments of your time, first, clanlord. Surely that is not too much to ask?"

Wrex ground his teeth, but the subtle tensing of the soldiers in the bay made him sigh in disgust. Whoever the asari was, the CDEM was answering to her. No matter how much he thought his people were stupid blood-chasers with no future, he wouldn't be the one to start serious trouble with the CDEM. "Fine."

She smirked. "Follow me, then. My name is Lirali S'Yama." She lead him off and away from the main reception and landing areas, down a narrow hallway of steel plating and logos of the Citadel. Wrex had never been here, and felt his crest tighten against his skull as he tasted the air – the faint scent of a hit of red sand made his snout twitch.

Oh, something was very off. He carefully checked his shotgun before following her cautiously. 'S'Yama' was the asari version of Clan Tuchan, a nothing name. A name that only meant one was either an anonymous clanless hoping for mystery...or a member of the Thirty, hiding their identity.

The former, he decided, was no threat. The latter could be, depending on who this 'mistress' was and why she wanted to meet with him.

Turning right at the first intersection, the asari pushed open a wide doorway, leading into an expansively large office, a good thirty feet across. "Queen Matriarch, Urdnot Wrex has arrived."

Wrex stiffened. There were only two asari in all of the galaxy who chose to use that title, and he somehow doubted Matriarch T'Armal would be slumming it in a CDEM fortress.

_Knew I should have had some jaaki before coming down. _

The office was deeply carpeted in deep fibrous piles of blue and light gray, while the north wall was natural rock, a shallow channel dug into it funneling clean, clear water into a shallow pool built into the floor and flanked by plants from Thessia. The other wall was dominated by dozens of haptic monitors, each showing various views from the CDEM cameras or real-time images from the CDEM air patrols that flew in the skies over head.

On the back wall, mounted on neat rows of hooks, was an armory. Warp swords, heavy machine guns, all manner of pistols and shotguns, even an older model turian lance cannon and a krogan warp hammer. The weapons were arrayed around the centerpiece, a long and slender rod of greenish metal with an almost invisible wire trailing from the tip down to a small greenish cube, a mono-filament eezo whip, a weapon outlawed even by batarians for being too cruel to use on living beings.

The center of the room was dominated by a single long asari style couch, surrounded by hovering flat panels of metal – some held food, others haptic keyboards, or monitors. Reclining on the couch was an muscular, lushly endowed asari draped in thickly layered black cloth, a shawl of silver over her shoulders, long dusky blue legs on display.

Hard purple eyes met his, the blue face showing the few signs of age in an asari, her markings dark black harsh looking geometric lines, deranged script and mocking shapes that hinted at darker things than mere ink. "Very good, my lovely little child. You may go, this is a conversation for … adults."

The asari bowed and left, shutting the door behind Wrex, who simply folded his arms and set his feet. "I thought you were dead, witch. Or had finally gone completely pyjak-brains and Aleena shot you out of pity. I didn't expect you to be fouling my homeworld. Mind telling me why you're in the CDEM commander's office?"

The asari laughed breathily, a thin patina of something darker in her tone. "You do not rush to embrace me, to let me feel cold armor and firm krogan muscle against my heated flesh? I am hurt, Wrexy." She sat up, her black clothing sliding about, revealing it to be little more than a hooded vest with sleeves, her bare breasts hanging out. Her tautly muscled stomach was covered in an intricate tattoo of a burning black sun, three bold lines intersecting it.

Wrex forced himself to exhale. The asari in front of him was one of the most dangerous and crazy in the galaxy – even if he had Aria to his left, Shepard to his right and his grandfather at his back, he would not risk fighting her. "I thought you were fucking that little salarian, Jaroth. You already kill him, or just break his spine trying to have more kids?"

She laughed again, tapping languidly at a control on one of the floating keyboards. "Not at all, Wrex. My delicious Jaroth is on Omega, overseeing our operations and making sure your old girlfriend doesn't get too cocky for her own good." Her eyes flashed. "He is comfortable there. As was I, for many years. I was there for some time...but Omega is too small, too tiny for my ambitions. And I'm so partial to krogan lovers...other mortals are so … fragile."

Wrex spat. "In other words, you ran."

Her black-tinted lips curved. "If you think that, Wrexy, you've become stupider than you were when you failed to listen to my warning about your father. I hardly need to run from that melodramatic jumped up stripper. She's forgotten who got her silly ass off of Thessia, spoiled brat."

She laughed. "Let Aria be the Queen of two-bit thugs, half-crest pirates and shitty little smugglers. The Umbral Queen has much larger ambitions." She rose on muscular legs, swaying as she walked over to him. "Ambitions that you could help with, old friend. And I will, of course, help you. You didn't come home to hug your brother, after all."

Wrex bared his teeth as she ran her hands along the stomach plate of his armor. "I am here for my own reasons, to perform the Keening. If you get in the way of that, Jona, I will tear you in half, our past won't stop that."

Jona Sederis, mistress of the Eclipse Mercenary Company, only smiled. "Wrex, you haven't even heard what I am up to! There are … so few people I can gloat to that I don't have to kill afterward." She actually rolled her tongue across her lips before turning away, lifting her hand almost tiredly. "Not that I mind killing them, but it becomes boring all too quickly."

Blue energy enfolded a bottle of something bluish, the contents sloshing sluggishly as the bottle flew into her hands and she uncapped it. "Sit, Wrex. Or I'll kill you, which would be sad, and then Aria would try to kill me, and the entire thing would probably get Urv killed in the cross fire." She pointed to a heavy krogan-style chair of solid metal.

Wrex flinched at the name Urv, and then narrowed his bulbous eyes, thinking. For her to be here, openly, with an office in the heart of the CDEM, explained a great deal of how slime like Okeer could operate so freely. He growled but sat, not out of any fear of her threat but rather to find out what in Kalros' name was happening.

"I have little time and less patience for your craziness today. Why are you here?"

Sederis drank directly from the bottle in her hands, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, still smirking. "The CDEM … has fallen far out of the sight and minds of those who hold the reins of power, oh yes. People – especially silly turians – are always so out-of-sight, out-of-mind." She laughed, a trilling sound of absolute derangement. "Which is funny if you think about it, since going out of one's mind is usually called being crazy. Does that mean all we cannot see is mere illusion, Wrexy?"

Wrex felt something crawling along the ridge of his spine, a feeling curling in his stomachs. Jona Sederis had always been crazy, but she had a sane edge to her crazy now. That only made her more dangerous, and finally it all clicked. He licked the air, sniffing, and shook his head.

"You took over the CDEM?"

Her smirk showed teeth.

"Mm. Turian blood brandy. Racy." She drank from the bottle again, before tossing the half-drained decanter aside. She snapped her fingers a moment later, a burst of warpfire incinerating it in mid-air, before it could strike the carpet. "And to answer your question, no. Eclipse has taken the contract to manage the CDEM in the aftermath of the losses suffered by the turian fleets, and because the CDEM forces manning the place … well, it's a long story."

The story she outlined in her drifty, half-sane fashion was almost comical. Originally she'd intended to work with a certain leader in the Blood Pack to speed up the smuggling of krogan off world. Granted, it would have made the Pack more powerful, but the Pack offered her a cut of mining profits, new contracts, even smuggling routes. There was an asari on staff with the CDEM's sensor division who had a nose for red sand and salarian vimthi powder, and she would let things slide.

At least that was the concept. Her agents had gotten into the CDEM and reported the turians and asari running it were very disoriented. After hearing their reports and video, Sederis had taken action, leaving Omega behind to investigate personally. She ended up finding one of the few turians who was still mostly normal, and discovered that many of the base personnel and even most of the turians and asari manning the station in orbit were affiliated with Saren and Benezia.

It took a little more digging for her to get a hold of rumors about people who'd been dealing with Saren. She'd actually tumbled to the full truth about a week before the death of Benezia – a conversation with Aria, leading to the discussion of 'indoctrination', based on leaked findings from the broken labs of Saren on Noveria.

Wrex grunted. "It's true. Saw the labs on Virmire myself."

He sipped the jaaki from the oversized cup she'd given him, eyes watching her hips swish back and forth as she paced. "Yes, I know. The Citadel is doing a good job at keeping things in the dark tides. But I see everything. Granted, by the time I put all the pieces together, Benezia was dead, and I was left trying to figure out how to salvage things."

She languidly arched her back, eyes amused. "I didn't know much about this indoctrination, except that too many CDEM were affected by it to play along with my own plans. I'd already sunk a small fortune into this effort, so I figured the only way to salvage my investment – and not simply slink back to Omega and boredom – was to be a upstanding citizen and let the Citadel know of what we found. I did that five days after Benezia turned herself into a torch. A day later sixteen cruisers full of Turian Deathwatch and STG teams stormed the place. It was a beautiful bloodletting. Eclipse helped, for the right price."

Sederis licked her lips. "After it was over, the turians were just going to shove more empty headed soldiers here, but I was able to convince little Tevos that a new approach would be … better. The Citadel has a problem with manpower, after all, not little things like a few tens of millions of credits. And the Sisterhood had no love for weak water-dancers like Benezia."

She smirked. "In return for us shutting the Blood Pack recruiters out completely, and ensuring the Enforcement Mission standards didn't slip, the Eclipse was granted operation of the CDEM contract for the next ten years. My girls have to wear those stupid uniforms, and we still have a handful of turian types to round out things, but it is... a good deal. Even that shifty little salarian thought so. Sparatus pouted, but no one cares about him, poor fool. Such a handsome form, and he spends his time in diplomacy."

She made a face of distaste, and despite himself Wrex laughed. "You actually convinced them to let a crazy woman run the CDEM. I'm not sure if I'm upset they think so little of the krogan, or worried about you somehow making my people even worse." He paused. "Garm must be furious that you double crossed him."

Her face twisted into a pout. "Out of his little shell with anger, of course. Even the Suns are pissed, mainly because they didn't think of it first. The Pack is starting all the problems it can for Eclipse. Fights in Omega, problems on the Traverse. Cutting me out of all of the mining they're doing out in the Traverse. But Jaroth feels some legitimacy will not hurt, especially with the Citadel nervous...not to mention we get free pick of all these lovely delicious weapons the CDEM had stockpiled."

Wrex shook his head. Sederis had always been crazy, but there was crazy and then there was flat out lunacy. The Citadel Council was distracted now, and the CDEM never a high priority, but sooner or later some Eclipse sister would start smuggling, or selling drugs, or something illegal. Most asari in Eclipse were as twisted and crazy as their mistress, and none of them bothered with doing things legally even when on their best behavior. Given how far out of the way the CDEM was, he didn't expect them to be on their best behavior for long.

And once something blew up, the Council would hold Sederis responsible. If she was tied to defying the Council, Eclipse would go from a shady mercenary group with suspected ties to organized crime to a target of the Spectres.

"Even for you, Jona, this is stupid and crazy. This is going to blow up on you and the Council will send Bau or Vasir to collect your head if even one person fucks up."

Sederis stretched, laying back on her couch, laughing quietly. "Will they? They're stressed to the breaking point. There's bad trouble in the Hierarchy, since Saren was the poster-child of the Fedorian bunch. Shock waves in the Asari Republic, about Benezia. The volus are unhappy the humans and suit-rats got seats, the batarians are making noise...it's chaos."

She smiled again. "Lovely, dancing chaos. It's my medium, blood-dark paint on a canvas of greedy fools and mere mortals. I don't fear those children on the Council. They're too dull, too boring to figure me out. And they don't care. As long as I keep the krogan in line, I think they're going to turn a blind eye. And given the krogan fear me and revere me, it all works out nicely."

She laughed. "Did you know they have a song about me? I was touched. It's rather simple, like all krogan music, but catchy. I executed a Blue Suns spy to the beat and it goes quite well with splintering turian plating as an accompaniment."

She lifted a slice of some sort of meat from a floating tray nearby and ate, eyes flashing. "As for fucking it all up...I won't be stupid, Wrexy. I'm taking a slice of all the things people smuggle on and off the world, but I can't be bribed to look the other way like the old CDEM could. Cutting the Blood Pack's supply of fresh meat off at the source is worth me losing money on other things. I'm even using it to train the younger Sisters, letting them grow stronger. I figure the children we make here will have the fire of Tuchanka in them, a thirst for sweet blood."

She laughed. "I'm even making a killing from selling medical gear and omnigel stocks to the clans, rather than red sand or weapons. No, I can enjoy this rather boring play of the waves for a time, relax and indulge in more … pleasurable pastimes than crushing fools underneath my heel."

She tapped her keyboard again, reading something before turning back to him. "And if it does go hot, I've already set up my chosen fall girl. It will be a matter of someone not following my orders, I'll kill them and dozens more in 'apology', and this will have been yet another Eclipse cell not doing what they're told and paying the price."

Wrex sighed. She had pulled that trick before.

She lifted another bottle of wine from the stack of bottles in the corner, bringing it into her grasp. "So...if you didn't come to congratulate me, why are you here, Wrexy? And were is Urv?"

His voice was firm, something that surprised him even as he spoke. "Urv is dead. Clan Ganar killed him,ambushed me. I'm here to … tell his mother. Perform the Keening. To call Blood-feud on Ganar, on Okeer."

She hissed. "Urv is dead?" For a flash her eyes were clear, free of madness and instead filled with a mix of fury, disbelief, and sorrow. It only lasted a second, yet it made Wrex feel even worse. Somewhere, in this lunatic's body, was still the friend who'd helped a terrified asari maiden and her compromised krogan bodyguard flee Thessia so many years ago, the gentle lover who'd taken a young foolish krogan and taught him how to fight and survive.

She closed her eyes, and exhaled, her aura flickering with a hint of biotic fire for a moment.

Wrex looked away. "Yeah." There was nothing else left in him to say more. No fire. No life. Just cold, hard, bloody vengeance. "I will perform the Keening, and then I go to find Okeer." He looked up, gritting his teeth. "Is he here, Jona?"

The asari shook her head, then looked up at him. "Okeer isn't here, Wrex. He blew through a couple of days after the big fight at the Citadel, and the rumor has it the Broker is looking for him. But his clan is active on Tuchanka itself. In their old home in Ukrat Steppes, stirring up the broken bits tribes out there and agitating those here."

She tapped the keyboard again, bringing up a display in midair. "They've been a nuisance, but one I've not bothered to crush just yet since they are thousands of miles away, and the Blacklands are nothing I'm willing to take my girls through. I've given though to aerial assaults, but they live off the land, in the old way, and so far haven't been stupid enough to challenge the shadow of Eclipse."

Wrex sighed. The Ukrat Steppes were a series of plains far to the west, where fresh water came down from powerful rivers sourced in the mountains that split Tuchanka's main continent in half. They were separated from the main clan areas by the Blacklands, a disaster area of broken mesas, shattered valleys and knife-sharp canyons ruined in the Krogan Rebellions. The Blacklands were full of ancient and hostile nano-plague infestations, radioactive waste, eezo dustings, and worse.

The mountains framing the Blacklands kept the taint within, but there was only one route through, a route guarded by the Ganar's old ally clan, the Muhka. Trying to navigate through the Blacklands on the ground without a Ganar or Muhka guide was tantamount to painful suicide.

"You could fly me there."

Sederis shook her head. "You would die, Wrex. Clan Ganar already spreads stories that Warlord Okeer defeated you upon the Citadel, and many younger tribes pressed for resources or water in the Vale of Blood are listening to their stories of cool lands and fresh water in the Ukrat Steppes. You'd be facing thousands of krogan."

He clenched his fist. "I need revenge."

Sederis spat. "You cannot gain revenge if you are dead, lovely boy. Urv would not wish his father to accompany him into the Abyss for nothing. Leave the crazy to me, you're not good at it." She paused, eyes narrowing. "I will prevent any Ganar from leaving or arriving on the planet, and my daughters will crush their agitators in Radyos and in the Vale. I can't do more than this, not even for you, not now. Perhaps when the contract is over I can accidentally crash a transport filled with tainted eezo into their precious steppes. But not now."

Wrex looked at her for a long moment. "You said the Broker was looking for him. If your Sisters find him first – "

She cut him off. "If the shadow of the Eclipse falls upon him, we will break every bone in his worthless body and deliver him to you, I swear on the name of Athame. Such shall not be easy, Wrexy. He is the oldest living thing in the galaxy, and even I am a child compared to him." She bit her lip. "He may have hiding places we know nothing off... the clan vanished for centuries, after all. But we will try." Her lips curled into a smile. "You'll have to figure out a way to make it up to me, though."

Wrex sighed. "That's all I can ask. Get me down out of here so I can tell Yranda I got our boy killed, and let her hit me until she calms down." He hung his head, his shoulders slumping slightly, and Sederis frowned before rising to cross the room, running her hand over his crest.

"You forget, Wrex. I, too, have lost a child. There is no healing that wound." Her smile is bitter, almost cruel. "You would be better off merely letting go of it all and grabbing hold of what feeble joys remain for you."

Wrex shook his head. "I am not Patriarch, Jona." He closed his eyes. "The fight doesn't stir me the way it used to. The ryncol tastes bitter. The blood-spatter is just a sticky mess. The soulfire is sullen when I call upon it – the fires of my line dying."

"There's nothing but me to die. If in doing that I can stop Clan Ganar from ruining the krogan further, then it's a better way to die than by inches, by glasses of ryncol and empty dead mornings." He clenched his fist. "Healing is beyond me. All I seek now is vengeance."

Sederis sighed. "Vengeance..how boring. Stay here while I arrange a tomkah for you, then." She was gone in swirl of black cloth and blue flesh, only her scent remaining, reminding the old krogan of simpler, happier times.

"Jona."

She paused at the doorway, glancing over her shoulder, and Wrex met her gaze. "Thank you."

She said nothing for a long moment, eyes flickering through several emotions before fixing in a small smirk. "Maybe I'm doing this just to hope you'll need comfort after you return from Tuchanka and your clan."

O-ATTWN-O

Garrus was more than a little nervous as he finished applying the last layer of Vakarian blue to his dress armor, the bold silver and dark blacks already drying. He'd already trimmed his fringe, touched his talons up, and made sure his facial paint was immaculate. The armor really didn't need the paint adjusted, but it gave him some to fill the last few minutes.

His family was arriving today, to meet Telanya for the first time. His mother's illness had gotten worse, and she feared that travel would soon be too uncomfortable for her to attempt, so she'd basically bullied his father into making the trip now.

He wasn't sure how his sire would react. Their last conversations after taking down Saren had gone … well, if stiffly. Solana would get along with her, if only to be difficult to her sire. And he was sure his mother would like Telanya.

It didn't hurt that C-SEC was singing his praises. Taking down Dr. Saleon and bringing him back for trial was something no one really expected Garrus to do – even Forlan figured Garrus would just blow the sick doctor away. His work on the horrific assault at Lenal had won him the approval of the two turian Spectres sent along to supervise. And his last case, shutting down an eezo smuggling ring without a single casualty, seemed to have even won over Palin.

Maybe now his sire would be proud, or at least accepting, of his son. Garrus hoped so. With a few final strokes of the color stylus, he finished the blue trim on the armor and stepped back to inspect it critically.

Telanya came into the room, wearing her C-SEC uniform, and wrinkled her nose. "Garrus, the living room is not the best place to do your painting in, given the smell." She smiled as she limped over to the couch and set herself down slowly, running her hand over her crests with a sigh.

Garrus winced at the catch in her step. Neither he nor Tel had fully recovered from the near-death battle against the geth in the Citadel Tower. His knee had been replaced by a cybernetic joint that still felt stiff and cold, and her own right leg was still healing from bone replacements. At night, he would trace the scars on her back and shoulders from where she had shielded him from geth fire with her own body, shuddering as he remember her screams.

She caught his sad look and smiled wider. "You're supposed to be happy today, Garrus. Your family is coming."

He nodded, a mandible flickering. "I am. My sire hasn't spoken to me much since I left Palaven, even less after I quit C-SEC. That he's doing so now is … well, Vakarians are stubborn. I haven't apologized for some things I said when I decided to leave C-SEC to follow Shepard, and he hasn't either. We're taking it slow, trying to just get along for now. But I'm nervous how he will react to you, I guess."

He traced his talons over the silvery trim of his family armor. "Being a Vakarian is supposed to be about duty above everything else – above pride, above honor even. Dad was always big on doing things the Right Way. I'm hoping he'll see that what I've gone through in the past year has changed me. I'm worried he'll still see me as a stupid, headstrong boy, and my choice of a mate as immature."

She shook her head. "I cannot say if you are just being pessimistic or if your father is just a bent crest. But I don't think it would be fair for him to toss away what you've done in the past month, in taking down that sick doctor or in freeing the victims, just because he disapproves of me." She rose, walking over to him and leaning her head against his chest. "I do know that even if he does not support you in this, that I do, and always will."

Garrus made a small rumbling sound in his chest, trying and failing to conceal his happiness at her statement, and she smiled. Before she could speak, the comm unit on the wall rang.

Garrus sighed, tapping his omni to pick up the call. "Vakarian."

"Garrus, this is Rithar down in Customs and Boarding. Your family's transport is coming in at dock 993 in about ten minutes. Figured you wanted to be there to meet them. I've got Vasuo and Krios on customs today, so you shouldn't have any problems."

"Thanks, Rith." Garrus clicked off, and began picking up pieces of his armor. "Can you bring the aircar up to the landing, Tel, while I get this on?"

She nodded, picking up the key-card off the little bar set into one side of their new apartment. The weeks following the triumph of Shepard and her team over Benezia had been heady ones. The Citadel had given them a monetary award, which Garrus and Telanya pooled to get a new apartment in the Presidium as well as their own air-car.

She walked down the steps from the apartment towards the air-car docket, smiling at how much things had changed. While she was sure Tevos would never forgive her for the act of defiance she'd pulled in her office, Telanya had been given a note from Ambassador Te'Shora, stating the Council of Matriarchs found Telanya had done her duty in a manner befitting the dignity of the asari people. Her mother had sent her a vid-call, happy and joyous at her daughter's successes and pleased at the news she wished to handfast with a hero such as Garrus.

Now, all she had to do was win over Garrus's parents. Once that would have daunted her. After the past six months, it mostly amused her. She'd faced alien terror units, literal space monsters, geth, and gone up against one of the deadliest Spectres in the galaxy.

She could handle cranky parents.

She got into their air-car, a longer model than usual with three rows of seats rather than the normal two. Garrus had found it at a volus dealership, the car originally designed for elcor and rescaled to fit smaller passengers. The purple and white car ascended smoothly up the docket and she brought it around to the front of the apartment, just as Garrus stepped out and locked the door, ducking under the open door to sit next to her.

"You still look nervous, Garrus. Everything will be fine."

He ran a hand over his fringe,shrugging. "My spurs are about to pop, I think. Still, since Mom and Solana are there, maybe he won't be such a vukar-beast about things. I'm sure she'll like you. She's always encouraged me to follow my heart."

She brought the car into the main traffic lane leading to Kithoi Ward, smiling. She'd recently changed her facial markings, removing her old patterns and replacing them with a tracery of lines in the same blue that Garrus's family used. She didn't match his patterns – that would be very presumptuous – but the asari pattern she chose was one of loving loyalty and determination. Maybe if Garrus' family was familiar with the asari meanings, that would make a good impression.

The car dipped and shuddered as it hit the air-boundary shell over the Wards, and she brought the acceleration down as it arced over the Kithoi docks a few minutes later, before pulling it into the restricted landing zones next to the docking area. As she powered down the car, a salarian C-SEC patroller started to walk over, no doubt preparing to tell them to move on, but she hung the C-SEC placard in the window and he merely nodded and moved on himself.

Garrus ducked out of the car, clamping his mandibles down,and took Telanya's hand as they walked down the pedway towards the docking lane. The docks in Kithoi were lightly filled, and the sharp lines of the turian patrol boat turned private cutter was the only ship she could see nearby. Like all turian ships, the lines of the cutter were angular and aggressive, like a long knife with small wings to either side.

Even as the mag-lock assembly finished clamping down and automatic robotic arms connected the service gantries and fueling hoses to the ship, the main hatch spiraled open,and three turians disembarked.

The two females were roughly the same height, both with the same tan skin and blue-white plates of Garrus himself. Bold blue markings dipped below each eye, to cross the cheeks and trail down the mandibles. Their fringes were shorter, more flared, and their hips wider than Garrus, both having slender waists.

The younger turian wore light padded armor, black with blue trim, along with a thin white sash over her shoulder that was knotted intricately at her belt, displaying her honors as Hierarchy Science Advisor. Her boots were high and flaring, dark black trimmed in vakar fur, and her talons hidden under thin black gloves. Her eyes were smaller and narrow than her brother, but her expression was friendly and open.

Her mother was slightly heavier built, with a visible slump to her stance. She wore a thick, multilayer robe of Vakarian blue, with panels of soft white heavy cloth trailing over her hips and a half-hood over her head. Narrow hard boots of white leather covered her feet. Her face was narrower than that of her daughter, her mandibles tight against the jaw, and she leaned on a smooth cane of white metal. A medical package of some kind was attached to a thick black leather belt that wrapped around her narrow waist.

Behind them, and towering over them, was a male turian. His plates were darker and thicker than those on Garrus, his stance almost stiff. His left eye had been replaced with a cybernetic implant that curled halfway down the side of his face, and his armor was almost identical to Garrus's own, in sharp blacks, blues,and silvers. The crimson and black rank-sash of a General of the Autarch Rank hung around his neck, and four glittering lines of crimson that ended in sharp claw-like glyphs glimmered fitfully on the chest of the armor – one for each award of the Primarch's Favor, one of the highest awards in the Hierarchy.

Regilus Vakarian folded his arms as he came to a stop in front of his son, his wife and daughter a step behind. Garrus made a sort of half-step and crossed one arm in front of him, dipping his head. "Sire, welcome. I am happy you all made it. I trust that your trip was...comfortable? The cutter is new."

The older turian nodded sharply, a mandible slowly flicking. "For the most part, Garrus, yes. There was some excitement with pirates that were seen off in quick motions by our escort. The cutter is a recent addition, the yacht was just too ostentatious for my taste. I donated it to the Fund for the Helpless." The single gray eye flicked over to examine Telanya. "You have yet to introduce your companion, son."

Garrus nervously coughed. "I – "

Telanya frowned, and made an asari bow. "General, my name is Telanya, daughter of Nasan, of no clan. I am a Officer in C-SEC Special Response, and Garrus' bondmate. I am delighted to meet you and your family."

Regilus gave a turian smile. "Thank you. I am Garrus's father, Regilus. This is my mate, Mitisia, and my daughter, Solana. Garrus was somewhat vague as to the nature of your relationship until recently."

Solana gave a laugh. "Oh, spirits, here we go."

Garrus sighed. "Let's get you to the hotel first, sire. Makes for a better place to discuss things than out in the middle of the docks."

The elder Vakarian grunted and ducked back inside the ship, exiting carrying two heavy black plastic cases,one of which he handed to Garrus. The group passed through the scanners at customs with no issues, although Regilus had to surrender his pistol.

They got into the air-car, Garrus's mother flicking an amused mandible. "You managed to afford a very nice vehicle, Garrus. I'm guessing you and Cina Telanya here have had some financial success?"

Garrus coughed as the car took off. "Some. We both got promoted in C-SEC, me to Senior Detective and her to Officer, and were given a pretty big monetary award from the Council for taking down Saren and Benezia, along with medals and citizenship in the Systems Alliance."

Regilus's voice was dry. "Humans come up with the most random awards. I'm not sure why they even made such a gesture. What next, free levo cuisine for life?"

Telanya spoke calmly, as she piloted the car up and over the main traffic lane. "An asari and a quarian were able to use their citizenship, taking the opportunity to join the Systems Alliance military. They now serve as officers alongside Major Shepard." She shrugged. "Among the asari, such a citizenship is highly prized. Asari have some difficulty moving in and out of human space without one, and many younger asari like to experiment."

Solana made a face. "That's a little...extreme, isn't it?"

Telanya snorted. "I'm not a big fan of some of the things my people do. I don't associate with them much, after some bad experiences in my youth." Her voice only had the slightest tremble in it, and Garrus took her free hand and squeezed it.

Regilus's eyes narrowed. "I suspect these experiences were part of why you joined C-SEC?"

She shrugged. "No disrespect, General, but it's not something I enjoy or wish to speak of. Let us just say that I think that, unlike turians, the asari people do not have their priorities in order."

Regilus was silent for a second before giving a rusty bark of laughter. "I like her capacity for barbed understatement, Garrus."

Garrus merely flicked a mandible as the air-car descended to land smoothly at the docking platform of the Carthaan Expevia, a turian hotel in the upper Kithoi Wards near the entrance to the Presidium. "Since our apartment isn't very big, I didn't think you wanted to crash on the couch, sire, so we got you the best hotel we could. It's only about two minutes from our apartment."

The air-car landed, doors swinging away even as two black-suited turian porters arrived, taking the bags out of the back. A third turian, his suit trimmed in dark green, bowed. "Welcome, General Vakarian. The Carthaan is delighted to be of service to your Family. Your suites are already prepared, please follow me."

Regilus shot Garrus a look before taking Mitisia's arm in his own and inclining his head to the greeter. "Of course."

Garrus and Telanya brought up the rear, the latter chatting quietly with Solana about the varied architecture of the Wards visible around them. "It's so...massive. How do you even find your way around?"

Tel smiled gently. "Most of the air-cars are built with integral navigation units, but as a member of C-SEC you get very familiar with areas you tend to patrol. I spent three years in Kithoi in the docks and working on smuggling cases before moving up to Financial Affairs."

They entered the lavish lobby, boots clicking on hard tile, as Regilus turned to her. "Hardly the usual path for a member of Special Response. Most start off in Interdiction or, like my son, Special Investigations – battle hardened types."

Telanya gave a small, almost mocking smile. "Yes, well. I think my survival during the Benezia Incident, including hot combat drops against Cerberus and geth, fighting Saren himself, not to mention helping Garrus stand off over seventy geth, were evidence enough that I can handle myself perfectly well in a fight."

Garrus' mother snickered. "Clawed."

The older turian shook his head in amusement. "Yes,well, that was rather pompous of me. What I was attempting to say was that usually Special Response is dominated by those who prefer using a gun to actually solving crimes. Your background should provide some interesting changes in focus."

Garrus almost puffed up with pride as they entered a lift. "It already has, sire. If not for her running down some of the customs alterations that bastard Saleon was up to, we'd have never identified his ship or pinned him down. Even before that, she was integral in helping Shepard with some of the investigations into Saren."

The older turian nodded. "I..." He paused. "I have not said this as I should, Garrus, but I am very proud of the way you have handled yourself in this entire distressing episode."

Garrus sighed. "Except for leaving C-SEC."

There was silence, and then Regilus shook his head. "No. I think, on reflection, you did exactly what had to be done. There is duty, always duty, and it does not bend for anything. But I was wrong in not seeing that you had to set your duty to the Law as higher than that of C-SEC, or even the Hierarchy."

"You could not in good conscious let Saren trample upon the honor of the Hierarchy, but your duty to C-SEC prevented you from stopping him. In any collision between duty to an organization and duty to the race, the latter should prevail...and I forgot myself, in my blindness. You made the correct choice."

Garrus looked at him, eyes wide, as he continued. "Saren was more than a criminal. He was the annihilation of honor, of duty, of sacrifice. Too many young turians in the colonies, with no strong guidance from Clan or Family, looked to him as a hero. He was not. He was a pragmatic and cold figure in his youth, growing bitter and hateful as time went on."

The lift opened out onto a large hallway, and they followed the silent turian guide down it. "More than anything else, though, Saren violated everything it meant to be turian."

Their guide muttered. "He betrayed the Principles." He then sighed."I apologize, General, for my – "

Regilus waved it away. "You are right, young talon. He defiled the Principles. He turned his back on the race, and plotted to place his own views and insights above everyone else. Even _batarians _are not that mad. The fact that you pursued him and were part of ending his threat is a mark of vast pride for the Family, Garrus. It will be entered on the Lists of Valor and sung by future generations. If you had merely obeyed duty to stay at C-SEC, who knows what would have happened?"

Regilus turned to the guide, who had been waiting patiently. "I presume this is our suite?"

The guide nodded and opened the door to a large, airy suite, done in curving lines of brushed dark steel set off with the faint gray-white wood of miorth trees. Large windows , curving triangles of darkened glass, were set into the far wall of the living space, giving a stunning view of the Wards and the darkness beyond.

Two large bedrooms and a palatial ablutions and bathing room branched off to the left, while a communal dining pad and mats filled an alcove to the right, along with a trough for gullet stones and silvery claw-picks on a tastefully arranged rack above. Woven rugs of vakar fur set off the center seating area, which dipped into a bowl-like shape around an electronic firepit , while haptic entertainment screens flickered against the nearest walls. Comfortable couches flanked the firepit, and a bar was set into the wall below the windows, stocked with turian drinks and snacks.

The guide crossed both arms downwards, a sign of submissive respect.. "Midpast meal is served in four hours, and we provide room service or formal dining in the Accav Room on the first floor. Our spirit house is of House Paya and is available on the fifth floor. If you have any requests, your room keycards can double as commlinks to our front desk." He handed Regilus a small stack of the cards, done in tasteful white and orange, and dipped his head again before departing.

After the door closed , Garrus's mother walked to the central seating area and sat down tiredly, leaning back into the cushions. "After all that flying about and jumping through relays, I'm not very hungry, so maybe room service with some light snacks would be best, dearheart."

Regilus nodded. "That's fine. Just remember if you get too fatigued, let me know. Solana, you wanted to do some shopping while we were here?"

The younger turian girl nodded, and Regilus chuckled as he handed her a credit chit. "Spoiled hatchling. Be back in two hours, no later. And do not – "

Solana huffed. "Do not embarrass the Family, do not blow your money, do not act in an undignified fashion, do not – " Her voice trailed off as she left out the front door, and after a long moment Garrus snickered.

Regilus glared at him, then glanced at Telanya. "I apologize for my children."

Telanya laughed, moving to sit across from Mitisia on the couch. "Garrus is often exasperating, but I still love him."

Garrus also sat, next to his mother, and his father remained standing, staring down. "Yes, well. I will not bite my words, young lady. I'm well aware of the fact Garrus probably loves you as well. He would not state his intention to handfast unless he was utterly certain. I have reservations about this, however. I had expected Garrus to, at some point, stop running all over creation with various young paramours, and to settle down back on Palaven with a … well, frankly, a turian female."

He sighed. "It is a sad fact that my brothers have no male children, and the last Vakarian male aside from Garrus, a cousin, is a dishonored fool, befouling himself with slavers in the Terminus. There are daughters, of course, and if they marry the Name will survive, but many will always trace the honor of a Family through the males. he name of this Family is ancient, and once numbered in the endless thousands, but our sacrifices to the Hierarchy over the years have weakened our numbers. I stand high in the ranks of our people, and I would like to think Garrus would one day as well. That will be difficult if he has no heirs to pass the Name to, and an asari mate."

He gave them both a grave look. "I am sorry to ask this,but your desire to be handfasted – have you truly thought this through, son? At what it will cost both you and the Family?"

Garrus was silent for a long moment before sighing. "I have. I have also considered what it would cost me if I did not do this, sire."

Regilus frowned, but Garrus clamped his mandibles close to his face before speaking, his voice quiet but firm. "I have not, I know, lived up to the Family dicta of '_Duty Ascendant, Sacrifice Without Regret_'. I was too hot-headed and too impatient to work well in the military, and I was naïve and stupid when it came to what I though justice should be about." He exhaled. "My judgment was flawed, many times,and I cannot say I expect you to believe I have learned discipline or judgment in a handful of weeks."

He lifted his gaze to his father. "But she is all that let me claw myself back from a brink I didn't even see, one where I did nothing but try to solve everything at gunpoint. She made me realize that duty is nothing if you don't have a reason to protect something. That sacrificing yourself has to be for more than words, or oaths, or a Name."

Regilus's voice was quiet. "Many in the Hierarchy would disagree with your words."

Garrus nodded. "Yes, they would. In that, however, I have not changed. I am not going to alter my own honor, or what I believe, or who I am to please them. I cannot merely fall in lockstep with the duty to ideas and words when there is also duty to something greater. There is duty to one's mate. Honor to those who saved your life. Sacrifice in the name of someone who has sacrificed so much more." He looked down again. "And you cannot imagine, in your most horrific dreams, how much Telanya has already sacrificed and suffered. I will not leave her alone to face that darkness."

His father folded his arms, his good eye gazing down at Garrus, stern and unyielding. "And if that flies in the face of what is best for the Family?"

Garrus smiled. "Then I follow the dicta. Duty Ascendant, to her. Sacrifice without regret, for her."

Telanya found herself shaking. The sheer desire and wish for his father's approval was pouring across their link, but Garrus was willing to throw it away – to throw his very chance at ascending the meritocracy away – if it came down to choosing between Family Vakarian and her. She looked up, catching Regilus's eye.

_All I do is make him bleed for me. _

She tried hard to keep her voice steady as she spoke. "General Regilus, I ask you to hear my words. Not long ago, I put Garrus into an intolerable situation. The Council of Matriarchs, the rulers of the asari people, asked me to perform a task. It was not a task I would have – could have – done, but it was the only reason I was allowed aboard the Normandy to fight by his side."

She swallowed. "In not trusting in Shepard, in concealing that task, I nearly got Garrus thrown off the ship. Shepard was furious with me, and with him for not telling her about my task. It nearly destroyed their friendship – it nearly endangered his life. I felt his misery as he had to make a choice – the duty he had to chasing Saren, to his friend Shepard, who had given him that chance – or his duty to his mate, to support her in all things."

Both Regilus and Mitisia winced, and Telanya continued. "I swore that I would never put him in that ugly position again … and yet, here I am, hurting him again. Making him choose between his desire to please his father – who he admires, and loves, and desperately wishes was proud of him – and me. Between his duty and his love for his family, and his duty and love to me."

She felt tears, and looked at Garrus. "Once again, I am willing to beg, if I must. Garrus lives and dies by the thought that you would just … approve of him. Be proud of him. He tears himself up that he isn't around to comfort his mother. He worries that he isn't worthy of his Name. I don't want to make him choose between you or me. It isn't fair to him, and …"

She shook her head, and wiped her eyes. "As on that day, I do not know how I can prove to you that I am worthy. I am not some asari noble, to enhance his prestige. I cannot give him a turian child. I ca – "

She broke off, as Regilus slowly raised a clawed hand, looking her in the eye. "There are those who would say that I should have chosen a stronger mate, rather than one who even in her youth was ill. That I should have chosen for durability, and to bring forth more children. That I had a duty to my Family that should have stood above love. Yet they are not courageous enough to say such to my face, for I would slay them where they stood."

He seemed to struggle with something internally before speaking. "I love my son. I am proud of him. If I have been remiss in saying that to him, it is because of failings on my part, not his. He has shown everyone what the meaning of sacrifice is, to hurl away his station, his hopes for promotion, to risk his mate, to stop a madman and his accomplice. When they showed me video of that horrible scene in the foyer, the two of you nearly dead, I wept and cursed, for my last words to my son were not that I loved him. I plead with the spirits to save his life."

Garrus' eyes were wide and she felt his roiling emotions, but his father was not done. "Turians are a hard people, Telanya, because to be anything else caused us suffering and death. But my son has proven his duty, his honor,and his sacrifice, in a way I cannot. So have you. If he has chosen you, then I will certainly not stop him, and those who say ill of his choice or of you can face my claws as if they insulted my mate."

He looked back at her. "But before you do this, you must understand it will cost him. He will _never_ ascend very far up the meritocracy. He will never be offered a command under the Primarch, or seat himself on the Autarch's Circle. There will be those who say that a son of one of the Founding Families should never do more than dabble with asari. They broke General Septimus from the ranks of the Primarchs to exile on the Citadel due to his extensive liaisons with the Consort, and they stripped Admiral Jahla of his rank and position for handfasting a member of the Thirty."

Garrus shook his head and sighed. "That just proves the Primacy Circle is nothing I ever want to be affiliated with."

Mitisia spoke, her voice soft. "Each of us is only given a little time, a few spans of life to find what we want from life, son. As your sire said, if you choose her, we will support you. She is a better mate than all too many of the soft-plated carrion circling the halls of the Spire, little more than spoiled fools in egg-heat and blind devotion to something they cannot understand." She smiled. "But he is also right. You do not wish to do this in haste, and regret it later, or it will poison your love."

Her voice was sad, and Regilus growled at her. "I regret nothing, Mitisia." His voice was harsh, but there was a note of defiance and attachment in it that made Telanya give a flickering smile.

He turned back to his son, who exhaled. "I'm already a bad turian, sire. I might as well be a complete failure." He looked up at his father.

With a sigh, Regilus Vakarian placed his forehead against his son's. "Foolish boy. I am always behind you. If I am stern, it is to protect you. I remember when you were hatched, fitting into the palm of my hand, nothing but wide eyes and tiny little hands gripping my collar. I wanted to shield you from the darkness of the galaxy, and instead I drove you away. But never doubt that I love you, son."

Garrus said nothing, merely holding his father's hands, and Mitisia stood, placing one hand on Garrus' shoulder, and one on Telanya's. "You'll have to forgive them, dear. Males of our species are in love with melodrama."

This time both Garrus and Regilus growled at her, and Telanya erupted into nervous relieved laughter.


	10. Chapter 10 : News and Nuptials

_**A/N:** Aethtya and Anderson this time. Tali is up next, I just needed to set some background up.  
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_The pace of updates is not really slowing down, I am just also focusing on some other works, such as the Biotic Encyclopedia and the Cerberus Files. Arc I will be ending soon, and then after fluffage Arc II kicks off with more action and what turns into Bring Down the Sky. This is turning into a somewhat larger work than I originally envisioned, but that will only give me more room to move the story forward in my ME2 piece, rather than having to explain what happened in the past.  
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_I have a couple of story recs. There's an awesome update to **Living an Indoctrinated Dream **by Aberron, as well as **A Job is a Job **by RED78910. And since this chapter touches on marriage, check out the absolutely hilarious **Daddy's Magic Sparkle Princess** by HugoCogs._

_As always, if you have questions about some of what is referenced here, leave a review or PM and I will answer as fast as I can. :)_

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><p><em>'The fact that James Branson was a puppet didn't offend me, but his smug voice and that smarmy expression did. Honestly? Every time I had to listen to him I wanted to punch him in the mouth.'<br>_

_- Councilor Donnel Udina, ''Maybe Later' is Never the Right Answer'  
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><p><em>DOWNLOADING: Data feed, prime broadcast segment 112<em>

_Manifest dump 42235-core alpha, unclassified_

_This is an official Systems Alliance data capture dump, replication or rebroadcast is restricted._

_Transcript begins, identifiers J: al-Jilani U: Udina B: Branson_

_Keywords: Citadel, geth, Systems Alliance, Branson, Udina_

BEGIN:

"Westerlund news! All the news, fit or unfit to print, 24/7!"

J: Good afternoon. I'm **Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani**, Westerlund News Network. This is a special report, coming to you directly from the Citadel Tower. Today we are honored to interview Councilor Donnel Udina, humanity's first Citadel Councilor. Additionally on direct vid-com link, we have Rear Admiral James Branson, the Hero of Elysium and the new High Admiral of the Alliance Admiralty Board.

J: Thank you both very much for gracing us with your time today, since you both have undoubtedly busy schedules.

U: You are quite welcome, and as always I enjoy being able to convey the views of my office to the public.

B: [nods head politely] Delighted to be here.

J: First, let me congratulate you both on your elevation to your respective stations. I think everyone in the SA can rest a little easier knowing the Hero of Elysium is directing the actions of our military, and Councilor Udina's well-known ardor and refusal to be cowed by the Citadel Council will make him a fine champion of humanity's needs. I personally am glad that Mr. Udina is our representative, as he has admirably balanced human goals with diplomatic realities in the past, and is a frequent guest on this show.

J: [smiles thinly] However, there are those commentators who question your new roles. Many members of the Ministries and voters who aided in unseating the prior Coleman administration feel Mr. Udina is a holdout from that regime who will not be in harmony with their views, while many older military figures feel Rear Admiral Branson is not a good replacement for his father due to a lack of experience at his rank. How would you respond to these criticisms?

U: I'm surprised you like me, Ms. Al-Jilani. The lack of approval from members of our government is not shocking. They feel that they should have made the choice about who represents humanity. Yet they have proven – repeatedly – that they are very unfit to actually do such a thing.

J: A strong statement, but can you provide specifics?

U: Certainly! It is astounding we have not actually been censured by the Council based on the acts of the current Coleman administration, given the number of very large diplomatic gaffes they made in the assumption of their role. They deliberately delayed seating their members, forcing President Windsor to deal with the Summit on Noveria himself. The Minister of the Interior championed Cerberus as some kind of patriotic organization and has not apologized in light of the discovery of Cerberus' role in the deaths at Eden Prime or it's disgusting practices.

U: [Grimaces] After they took power, Baron Bekenstein offended the Asari by suggesting humanity had suffered more than others, mere hours after millions of asari died to Benezia's terror attacks. Lord Aldrien Manswell, the deputy director of the Ministry of State, was arrested for high treason after he illegally tried to detain Shepard from chasing after Benezia to stop her, an act that, had he succeeded, would have lead to her triumph. Bekenstein's quite public decision to try and prevent the Fifth Fleet from assisting with the Battle of the Citadel has also gone over very poorly.

U: [folds arms] The general impression that most alien governments have of the new Coleman administration is that it is short-sighted, bigoted, incompetent, and very close to hostile. The colonies of the SA probably are not reassured either, given that every member of the Cabinet is against military expenditure for even class II colonies. Frankly? Yes, I am not in lockstep with our government's positions, and that is a good thing. I will execute the requirements as placed upon me by the President and attempt to improve Humanity's standing, not encourage isolationism and a retreat from the galactic stage when we have sacrificed so much just to get here.

J: And thus you feel you are better suited to represent humanity at the table than the properly elected representative's choice?

U: Ms. Al-Jilani, I have a doctorate in xenolinguistics and xenopsychology. I've been involved in diplomatic efforts with non-humans since the First Contact War. I know the Citadel councilors both professionally and personally, and I have a wide array of contacts with other alien representatives. The man they chose to replace me was an apparatchik that did not even understand the nine basic forms of siari hand motion, or why staring at salarians is bad. Do you really think the Council will take humanity seriously, or give any credence to our requests and needs, if we send in people who think aliens are inferior to humans, and who have mouthed support for a terrorist organization?

J: That may be true, but it does dodge the question – should the Citadel Representative be chosen based on the wishes of the people of the SA?

U: That was never the case in the first place, and ignores the more important point. The current government is a shakily held coalition. If they are allowed to determine the course of humanity's interaction with the Citadel, it will result in a negative outcome. Given the amount of alien investment, technology agreements, trade concessions and relaxation of trade duties that the old Coleman administration was able to achieve by being at least polite, I fear the current administration will cost the Systems Alliance billions of credits, retard our growth, ignore our colonies and generally put humanity in a worse light.

J: I see. Rear Admiral Branson?

B: I am fully aware that I am not a 'senior' admiral. I was promoted to Captain around the time Shepard was tapped as a Spectre, and to Rear Admiral days before I was selected to lead the Admiralty Board. They actually offered me the position of Fleet Master, which I refused, because I did not feel I had the proper experience. The Board does not act in a vacuum. I not only have the advice of two other admirals of the Red, but the Senate Defense committee, the Minister of Defense, and of course the President.

B: [frowns] As to the question of my views and priorities, I am not so ready to accept criticisms. I don't want to attack my own father, but many policies pursued by the previous Admiralty were … questionable. If we are to cooperate militarily with any races, I would far prefer it to be the Quarians and Volus, or at least the Asari, rather than the turians. I think the ongoing quagmire and cold war with the Batarians is counterproductive, and frankly, I think we waste a great deal of money on trying to match the military capabilities of other races when our economy is simply not ready for that. I do plan to draw down military forces to some extent, because we are over-extended, over-worked, and most of all held to account for the defense of a volume of space a fleet twice our size couldn't guard properly. The continuing granting of colonization grants is not sustainable.

J: An interesting perspective. And your opinion on the Rear Admiral, Mr. Udina?

U: [Arches an eyebrow] I am not precisely grounded in the intricacies of military command architecture, Ms. Al-Jilani. I will say that the only reason Branson wasn't chosen as a Spectre was he was doing more good where he was, and because his path even then was to ascend to the Admiralty, not simply tote a gun around. I am confident that he will serve proudly, and that his ability to lead our military forces will be every bit as skilled as his father was. As to his stance on expansion and the role of the fleet, I cannot agree more. Catering to wildcat settlers who want protection without paying for it or contributing to the SA is a recipe for disaster.

J: [Smiles] Rear Admiral Branson, do you have an opinion on Mr. Udina's views?

B: That's a complex question, ma'am. As a rule, I will admit to distrusting the motives and long-term goals of many of our alien neighbors. Even our cousins the asari have their issues, as can be seen by millions of them literally fleeing to live in the SA. That being said, I am not opposed to civil cooperation with the Council and it's members, as long as we are going to get the benefits of such as the asari, turians, and salarians have. I disagree on some issues – Mr. Udina is a proponent of military integration with aliens, I am not, he is a strong advocate of increasing our trade with the volus, I disagree – but on the whole we are of like minds on many things. He will be a better servant to the needs of humanity, I feel, than someone driven by political motives – or worse, dislike of aliens.

J: Well … it's good that you two are in rough agreement then. Moving on, I'd like to continue by addressing a concern raised in calls and other media feedback by many of our viewers, namely that of the recent invasion by the geth. Their attack at Terra Nova left many thousands dead, not to mention smaller skirmishes at Feros, Noveria, and of course the evil committed at Eden Prime and the corporate world of Exogeni III. Many are wondering why the Systems Alliance fleets – or the Citadel Fleets – were not able to repel such attacks on human worlds, or even the alien capitals, where the damage was even worse.

U: I will let the High Admiral address the military aspects of your question, ma'am, since that is a military matter. I will say that the quarians have been warning us all for decades the geth were a threat, and they were ignored. Hopefully we won't repeat such foolishness in the future.

J: Admiral?

B: [leans back, stroking his chin] As to the effective nature of the fleets, ma'am, I will speak to that. The decision was made by the Citadel Council to not deploy large numbers of ships during the initial hunt for Saren and Benezia given that they were operating out of the Terminus Systems. The Citadel was worried about provoking the criminal warlord Aria. After the decimation of one of the Fleets by the geth dreadnaught at Feros, the Citadel Admiralty made the decision to not engage in direct combat without overwhelming numbers.

B: [smiles] The fleets – both theirs and ours – were deployed in a manner from which they hoped would minimize losses in case of a general geth invasion. Clearly mistakes were made in assessing the threat, but we had no real way to investigate the Perseus Veil or the strength of geth technology. That super-dreadnaught of theirs was a shock to everyone. The bottom line is that, as I mentioned earlier, we're spread too thin to actively defend it all.

J: How will this change in the near future, then? The geth threat is not over, after all. Do you think what remains of the Fleets can defend civilized space if the geth attack again?

B: It is difficult to say. The Citadel Fleet must be given credit for facing down and stopping the vast majority of the geth armada, but they lost a lot of ships doing so. Even with the quarians joining, they are weaker now than at any time in the past century. The geth fleet that attacked the Alliance tore Second Fleet in half, and severely damaged First and Fifth Fleets. That geth fleet was only a tenth of the force hurled at the capital planets of the Citadel Races and the Citadel itself, so we could have come off worse than we did. For now, the core of the human fleet will need to rebuild, and I think in the short term everyone will be investing into crash programs to both boost fleet numbers and fleet effectiveness.

J: I see. There have been several statements made by the Minister of State and many members of the public, stating that the Alliance has paid more than it's fair share of blood and that the sacrifice of our sailors in the Fifth Fleet was both unnecessary and the wrong move to to make. Do you feel this stance is valid, given that humanity did take the lead on bringing Saren and Benezia to justice?

U: The ability of certain political groups to take reality and alter it into fantasy has always fascinated me, Ms. Al-Jilani. Let us be clear, however. 'Humanity' did not in any way, shape or form take the 'lead' in stopping Saren and Benezia – Commander Shepard did. The Systems Alliance did not provide her with any level of support aside from a single frigate and three replacement Marines. In fact, the Minister of State's deputy attempted to stop Shepard from pursuing Benezia, an act that if had been allowed to stand might have ended in Benezia's victory.

U: [Leans forward, frowning] I won't make the obvious comment on the fact that the quarian Migrant Fleet made the same choice that Fifth Fleet did. Ignoring the plight of the Citadel Fleet may have saved human lives in the short run, but the message it would have sent would be disastrous in the long run, if we turned our back on not only the turians and salarians but our own asari allies.

J: Admiral Branson?

B: I can see the concerns being raised by some members of government – I often had such disagreements with my own father, when he held the post I hold now. And to a certain degree I agree – there is certainly an argument that could be made regarding the lack of support by the Citadel Council in support of Shepard. But the Alliance Military did not back her up either, so I feel this smacks far too much of political sophistry rather than honest assessment.

B: [sighs and straightens in chair] I disagreed and still disagree with the actions of Fifth Fleet, but for purely strategic reasons. Second Fleet was rendered incapable, and First Fleet was heavily damaged – by pulling Fifth Fleet out of our border defenses, any additional geth attacks could have ravaged core colonies. But I will not suggest that the actions of Fifth Fleet at the battle were some pointless sacrifice. Letting the Citadel Fleet be destroyed would not benefit humanity in the long run, and I wish to strongly state that my condolences and admiration are with _all _of the brave beings who died in that battle – human, asari, quarian, salarian, turian, and volus.

J: Before we move on, I'd like to address the statements made by the Earth First and Blue Stars No More parties. They issued a joint statement of censure, stating – and I quote – 'The people of Earth have lost enough lives in the defense not of our home, but of the Citadel and it's alien inhabitants. The criminal incompetence of those who sacrificed thousands of human lives to score political points rather than consider the needs of Mother Earth will not be forgotten. Our families, our taxes and our livelihoods should not be sacrificed for others.' Given the support polls show for their position, how do respond to such accusations?

U: [arches an eyebrow] I am sure the hundreds of thousands of humans on the Citadel appreciate the implied statement that their lives apparently don't matter. Ms. Al-Jilani, I will borrow a page from Commander Shepard's book and be rather blunt. I do not care what the majority of the citizens of Sol think about the recent events, based on the people they voted into office. Earth First never seems to have a problem when asari investors drop billions to assist with rebuilding the ecosystems, and given that the vast majority of taxes from the colonies don't go to improving the lives of colonists but rather to support Earth, the statement about taxes is completely hypocritical. Blue Stars No More seems to think if we cover our eyes and hide that threats won't find us. Their selfish grief over their own losses cheapens the sacrifice of their loved ones and frankly disgusts me.

U: [leans forward again] My response to their commentary is for them to open their eyes. Humanity is more than Sol, and the short-sighted focus of the Alliance towards Sol is the main reason why, in my opinion, the Fleet didn't have the forces to truly protect Eden Prime or Feros. My job as humanity's Councilor is to represent _humanity_, not the wishes of political parties. If my actions and positions irritate them, that merely means I am performing my task properly.

B: [smiles] While Councilor Udina is rather sharp with his tone and words, I will agree there is a sizable disconnect between what the civilian population sees as important and what the Alliance has to focus on. The loss of human life at the Battle of the Citadel was tragic, as is any loss of our brave servicemen and women. But I disagree sharply that it was mere political theater. The call was made by Commander Shepard, and the rationale she used for ordering the Fifth Fleet into combat was simple – a Council that owes humanity it's life is more likely to listen than one bitter that we let so many die. The Destiny Ascension not only had the Council aboard, but over four thousand crew and almost fifteen thousand highly influential civilian evacuees. Two of the daughters of the High Matriarch were aboard, as was most of the salarian Yaan noble family.

B: [Shrugs] If we had not acted, and let the Destiny Ascension be destroyed, not only would have defeating the geth be more difficult, but we would be facing the bitter recriminations of asari, turians and salarians. There would be a massive retrenchment of alien investment, and more than likely the other races would isolate humanity much as the batarians have been isolated. That would not have ended well for the Alliance, I fear.

J: I see. Given that we have been admitted to the Council, and that our sacrifices have at least won us admiration and goodwill, what role do you see the Alliance playing in the near future?

U: Our primary focus should be on rebuilding our own defenses and enacting tighter connections with the quarians. As much as it galls me to admit it, we are unlikely to see any immediate benefits on a political level from joining the Council. Taxes will go down, we will have a real say in the deployments of the Citadel Fleet, and certainly there will be far fewer restrictions on human corporations and on our military forces. At the same time, we must determine how our new status changes legal decisions and other aspects of the Alliance's current day to day operations, such as immigration, trade and colonization.

B: There also needs to be, if not a retraction, at least a stabilization of the Systems Alliance in terms of what we can and cannot defend and support militarily. I agree with Mr. Udina that change and improvement wont' come overnight, but we should not wait for the Council to help us with defending our colonies. I know this may sound cruel, but pulling back defense aside from static GARDIAN and GTS emplacements on outlying class I colonies and canceling any support, even emergency reaction forces, to those colonies who refuse to join the SA, has pretty much become a requirement. We simply no longer have the ships to support them.

U: Perhaps with time Council fleets, or even our quarian allies, can take up that burden, but I agree with the Rear Admiral.

J: That will not sit well with the people on the frontier.

U: And? I regret the ugly necessity of pulling back from class I colonies, but too many of them were founded against the direct recommendation of the Ministry of Development, and many are in arrears on their taxes and support of the SA. Wildcat colonies don't even bother to pretend to be a part of the SA, yet scream that our servicemen should die to protect them? There is no free lunch. If colonies want the benefits of the SA then they have to abide by it's restrictions, taxes, and laws. If they do not wish to do that, why exactly should the SA be obligated to assist them?

J: The fact that they are human does not sway you?

U: It does not. We have limited funds, limited facilities, and limited forces. The whole reason people died at Terra Nova – a full class III member of the SA – is that we diluted our defenses trying to protect far-flung colonies who don't even cooperate with the SA. In appeasing those who contribute nothing, we sacrificed the lives of those who paid their taxes, sent off their children to war, and supported the SA in the line of fire. Tell the wildcatters to explain to the people mourning loved ones on Terra Nova why they had to pay the price for frontier intransigence.

J: A few last items. Admiral, what is your take on the promotion of humanity's first Spectre to Major and her command of a highly secretive task force?

B: I can't really comment on that, ma'am. I'll stay that Major Shepard is tasked with certain high level tasks that would require someone with Spectre authority, and that her orders are issued from the highest levels of authority.

J: Rumor also states that the Alliance is looking to select an additional Spectre candidate. Can you speak to this issue?

B: [laughs] I can tell you it's not me!

U: I believe we are still in the negotiations phase of such discussions with the Council – not even at a place yet where possible candidates would be suggested, much less reviewed. I will say that a second Spectre candidate would have to display several of the same attributes as Shepard – open-minded attitude to aliens, a lack of political attachment, no major command status, and most likely a Marine officer with Naval service rather than a pure Naval officer. But decisions are still months off, if not longer.

J: Finally, there is a great deal of gossip and speculation around what the real goals of Benezia and Saren were. The Council has declined to comment, and Major Shepard's Commissariat detail denied our interviewers a chance to speak with her. Could you shed light on this?

B: [glances at Udina, who shakes his head slightly] I can only give certain information out at this time, ma'am. Investigations are still ongoing, as there might be as many as several hundred turian and possibly several thousand asari Triune forces with loyalty to Saren and Benezia still at large. We can confirm that the two of them were in rebellion against the current governance of the entire galaxy. The geth assaults on capital systems of major races was designed to kill rulers and destroy central governments while the strike at the Citadel would have decapitated Citadel governance and placed the Citadel's key relay controls into their hands.

B: [sighs] It is clear that Saren and Benezia planned to remake the state of the galaxy and who was in charge Saren's involvement with Cerberus is also still under investigation, and whatever they planned was probably not going to end well for anyone.

U: Some sources in our investigation indicate both Saren and Benezia were likely … unbalanced. Saren was a turian biotic, who are often segregated and isolated from turian society. Despite how much honor he accrued and his high place in turian hearts, the loss of his partner made him withdraw from society even more, which can lead to mental problems for turians. Likewise, Benezia went through an extremely ugly divorce, and both her Triune Movement and her business dealings were racked with scandal and investigation, which was very shaming and stressful. Her closer friends reported that she had also withdrawn from society in recent years.

B: We're still putting together facts, obviously. But Saren was frustrated and angry at the Turian Hierarchy's economic troubles, the damage caused by volus independence movements, and the loss of honor from the forced end of the First Contact War. Benezia, likewise, was not pleased with the social troubles caused by the asari movement that has caused so many asari to turn their backs on the Thirty and to join the SA. She was equally distressed by harsh criticism of the goals of the Triune Unity movement and the fact that some sort of scandal involving the Church of Athame involving one Matriarch Trellani was laid at her feet.

J: It is saddening and frustrating – as well as frightening – that two such noble figures would fall to darkness. I was an intern when Lady Benezia visited Earth in the 2160's, and her grace and beauty enchanted all of humanity. For her to turn against us has made some question the safety of relying so much on the asari-human bond of kinship.

U: [exhales] That, Ms. Al-Jilani, is something that I think will need some reevaluation as the Alliance moves forward. I admire the asari and I believe they have done a great deal to help humanity, at great financial and political cost. But the recent spike in asari immigration is becoming a flood, and it does not speak well to our future relationship if the Thirty keep asking us to curtail or even stop asari immigrants while encouraging human immigration to the Republic. Certain questions also need to be asked in regards to some events involving Saren's dreadnaught, which for now we believe to be a Prothean or possibly Inusannon vessel that the asari may have had some information on they withheld from us.

J: Any words on this, Admiral?

B: I don't want to come off sounding like either a bigot or ungrateful. I am in personal debt to the asari, as one of their commandos saved my life not too long ago, and certainly they've done a great deal to improve the condition of Earth's ecosphere and shielding our economy from unfair competition. That being said, we cannot afford to become too dependent on Big Sister. It isn't a matter of that they are aliens. As they have pointed out, they are so very nearly human that the differences really are trivial. The problem is that humanity cannot grow if it is dependent on others, and we have no wish to be puppets like the drell are to the hanar, nor dominated as the volus are by the turians.

J: Well said. I'm afraid that is all the time we have tonight, but we look forward to seeing both of you in action, protecting humanity's interests and showing our place on the Council is deserved. Thank you both for your contributions and service.

B: I am but a servant of humanity, ma'am. Good night.

U: If anyone deserves thanks, it should be Shepard. Thank you for allowing us to air our own views.

O-ATTWN-O

Aethyta gazed out over the serenity of the Presidium from the aircar as it ascended towards the Silversun Strip, tugging irritably at the collar of her dress as she shifted in her seat. The past few weeks had been spent in intense regeneration therapy and reconstructive surgery for the biotic burns she had suffered at the hands of Benezia, and she'd only been discharged two days ago. She was still getting used to moving around after fifteen days in traction.

She scratched her shoulder absently, then sighed. Damned itching.

She should have worn a different dress. But most of her usual dresses were a little skanky to be worn in a meet with your daughter's father. Couldn't send the wrong message, hell. Humans tended to see asari as sex-addicted sluts half the time anyway, no need to reinforce the stereotype. That meant wearing a long, ankle length matriarchal gown, complete with the stupid shawl of the Vasir and a goddess-damned sash of her rank as a blademistress.

The human wouldn't even get the message her outfit gave, but it was better than sending a different message with a low-cut mini showing cleavage and azure. She just wished the thing was a little looser, the fabric rubbing her skin made it itch constantly.

A smirk crossed her lips. The other shore of that particular sea was that the dress was a bit tight for a reason. Since her breasts had literally been burned off, she'd gotten the surgeons to rebuild her breasts the size she always wanted. They had frankly begun to sag a little, and that was never going to be something she put up with. She even took the opportunity to have the nipples augmented with mithsa-skin from her azure. She'd always wanted to do that but never had the cash.

She'd have to thank Tevos for picking up the medical bill. Not directly, of course. Tevos was too stiff and concerned with her own image to be open to the kind of repayment Aethyta was good at. Still, she could give Lidanya some tips, since it was clear the two were an item. Liddy was a sweet girl, but still clanless trash, and probably didn't know how to _really _get Tevos screaming in the sack.

She laughed a little at that thought, then scratched herself again. She had to give the Asari Councilor credit for having the smarts to do an end-run around that catty little Te'Shora bitch. Doing it with yet another adoptee to one of the High Houses sent it's own message in asari culture. If Tevos T'Sael could become Tevos Te'Armal, poor Irrissa could kiss her own chances at being Councilor goodbye.

She idly scratched her stomach, then frowned. Maybe lotion would have helped, she should have bought some earlier.

The aircar began to descend, tucking itself into the Strip's closed in environs. Unlike the rest of the Presidium, the Strip was a long wide shelf cut lengthwise down the curve of the Presidium, closed off from the main torus. It had become the place for the less opulent and more gaudy attractions on the Citadel to cluster, away from the white-lit elegance of the main Presidium. Arenas, gambling houses, hotels catering to privacy, and of course the homes of the less reputable could all be found there.

She wondered why the hell an Alliance captain would make his home here, aside from the privacy, then grunted. She never could figure out humans. Good in bed, looked almost exactly like an asari which meant the juices got flowing faster, and more gentle and emotional than turians. Hilarious when drunk, and creative when it came to drinks. Also kinkier and nastier than any other alien, the shit they got up to in their porn made _Vaenia_ look like elcor mating rituals with those big wooden pole things.

Still, they were too weird and confusing to really get a grip on. Humans seemed to delight in being different and unpredictable, then wondering why everyone was nervous around them. She would have to keep that in mind when it came time to talk to Shepard's father figure.

The aircar landed, and she stepped out, heels clicking sharply on the faux-stone floor of the landing area, smoothing her black and silver dress and checking the fit of her neural brace disguised as an elegant bracelet on her left arm. She adjusted her shawl, scowling at the stupid thing, and then flexed her ankle. She had a monofilament knife in a skin-tight sheath in her boot, and wanted to feel that it was still in place.

She wouldn't need it – goddess, she hoped she wasn't that fucking stupid that she would have to knife Shepard's father – but she didn't get to be eleven hundred damned years old by going unarmed anywhere.

Walking towards the address given to her, she paused as a ground transport wheeled by, taking in the flowing crowds of turians, asari, salarians, volus and humans. A striking asari in a flat-black gown that cut off at the thigh turned to face her, and for a moment she looked like Benezia, elegant gaze and cool amusement in her eyes.

Then the moment passed as the asari faced away, just another good looking matron. Aethyta winced, tightening her lips and moving past the other asari.

Every night since she'd watched Nezzy burn herself to death, her mind had been at war with itself, with images of their lives together and of the long nights spent in each others arms. Benezia had been her first real friend, her first rival, her first lover, and perhaps the most important person in her life. She'd never gotten over their separation, always trying to tell herself that in another few decades she'd take a stab at making things work again.

Too many drinks, too much disappointment and too much isolation had made such wishes merely talk. The years of shame and rebuke she'd endured, taking on all the blame for mistakes both she and Nezzy had made, had driven her to flee most of her older friends. Her disciples turned away from her, her family pretended she didn't exist, and even those who held beliefs similar to her sneered and ignored her plight.

She'd heard the snide comments, of course. The whispers that Benezia had been a little too tightly wound around Aethyta's fingers, that the fortunes of T'Soni and Vasir had slumped because their matriarchs spent all their time fucking and none of it leading. The ugly smiles that took pleasure in seeing the Black Blade of the Vasir humbled, paying her back for centuries of running her sharp tongue over the failings of asari culture. Most of all, the sneering dismissal when her beliefs in a more militant stance had been discredited by a few stupid maidens bringing shame to her House and her teachings.

She'd let the cutting remarks and the cruel laughs drive her away. She did it trying to protect Benezia, trying to not ruin her bondmate's life – but in doing so she had clearly had destroyed _Benezia _as well as herself.

She'd drowned herself in drink, trying to forget Benezia's laugh, her touch, her smile. She'd lost herself in lovers hoping to blot out the feel of Benezia's body, the warmth of her bond. She'd turned bitter and hostile to all, and had let the chances to reunite with her lover – not to mention Liara – slip away. Hurt and upset at the fact that Benezia had never chased her or tried to find her, she let despair dissuade her from trying to make amends herself.

She was terrified she would go to Benezia, and be turned away. And that fear had led her to the ugly day on the Citadel, crossing swords with the only person she'd ever loved.

Fighting Nezzy, seeing her soul underneath whatever foul corruption had been shoved into her body, had hurt like nothing else. Even trying to kill each other they'd bantered, as if they were merely arguing. Neither one had wanted that fight, and neither had wanted to really kill the other.

When Benezia had died in the glory of the light, and Aethyta been left alive and alone, the ugly truth hit her at last.

Never again would she taste those lips, or see her in soft yellows, laughing at the sun. Never again would she see that cunning smile, or grin as Benezia turned foes into friends with her gentle wisdom. Never again would she hold her and ignore the galaxy around her.

Benezia was gone, because Aethyta was too fucking _weak_ and _scared_ to stop her from falling.

She hurt, in a way that no amount of drinking, or screwing, or hiding would ever stop. Benezia was her soul, her balance. She was the courtesy to Aethyta's crassness, the sympathy to her tough love, the elegance to her coarse nature. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, so natural and right that without her she'd felt unbalanced.

She glanced ahead,seeing the tower she was headed for. A bitter smile crossed her lips as she saw a haptic advertisement for a performance of the Atherion using human music. Nezzy would have loved something like that.

She exhaled, and kept walking. That was all that was left to her now, enduring through the pain.

She'd endured when she found out that Nezzy had bonded with some turian freak, even when that had cut her almost more than she could take. She'd endured when she watched her daughter's name be mocked and belittled, hoping against hope that Liara's spirit would survive the cruelty of asari disdain. She'd endured when the most talented of her students, Samara, had warned her of the machinations against Liara – that the Thirty had instructed the Justicar Order to eliminate Liara, fearing that Benezia had poisoned her mind as she had done to Matriarch Trellani.

She'd come close to giving into despair when Liara had gone silent on Therum, followed by the news the planet had been attacked by geth. She'd sat in her bar on Ilium, a collection of four full-strength bottles of ryncol in front of her, enough to shred her insides to the point where she would bleed to death in a stupor.

But she didn't drink them. She was too hard to give up, too bitter, too goddess-damned bitchy. And she'd endured all of the pain she had, of having to fight her own bondmate, of watching Nezzy die, of living on without the other half of her soul, for one reason only.

Her daughter.

She had nearly cried seeing Liara there at the end, watching her rage flow as she defended her bondmate Shepard, watching her fight and try to kill her own mother. Had lost it and sobbed when she had to see Benezia show her strength one final time, overcoming what had to be agony to deny Nazara it's last wish.

Aethyta didn't know much about the Reaper, but she liked to think Benezia's dying had fucked it over somehow, had contributed to the thing being blown to shreds.

She hoped the damned thing died in agony.

She reached the tower, entering into the lobby and glancing around at the green-tinted marble floor and cool green glass windows. Definitely classy stuff.

She walked to the elevator, forcing her emotions to sit still and behave. She couldn't afford to start weeping like a silly maiden. She had to be strong. To be there for Liara, to shield her from the bullshit the Matriarchy would pull, the plots and plans of bitter old azures too busy looking backwards to see the tsunami about to crush them.

The elevator opened, and she got in, hitting the button to take her to the appropriate level. She was a little nervous about meeting this Captain Anderson, unsure of the proprieties of doing so.

She snorted. She probably couldn't even spell proprieties correctly, much less not fuck it up. She could only be herself, direct, truthful and blunt, and hope to the Goddess she didn't mess this up too badly.

The elevator hissed open, and she walked as calmly as she could to the heavy doorway at the end of the hall, tapping the small haptic panel to one side.

It took half a minute for a voice to answer. "Yes?" A heavy, dark voice, full of authority and old wounds, wisdom and steel. A good voice, she thought.

"Matriarch Aethyta Vasir. Here to see Captain David Anderson."

A moment later the door opened, revealing a broad-shouldered and dark-skinned human male. He was dressed conservatively – thick black slacks, a white shirt under a soft, loose leather jacket, and black shoes of some soft material. "I was just getting ready to call you. Come in, please."

She stepped inside, glancing around, taking in the subtle hints of asari and turian design along with the more human aspects, like the barbaric fire burning in the middle of the room, or the collection of guns on one wall. "Nice place."

He nodded, his eyes focused on her face instead of her tits. She wasn't sure if that was polite or insulting, but decided to go with polite for now. Anderson was a bit too rugged and weathered for her tastes. On the rare occasions she'd dabbled in humans, she preferred the women, or at least the prettier and more slender men.

He shrugged, turning away. "I can't take credit for it. Kahlee, my … long-term partner, I guess, is responsible for the décor. I did add one thing onto her design though. Follow me."

Anderson said nothing else as he led her to the back of the apartment, a small room that she saw after entering was a bar, with a good six foot long floor-to-ceiling collection of some of the best booze and liquor in the galaxy neatly arranged on its shelving.

Her lips quirked before she broke down and laughed. "You have a bar in your apartment?"

He gave her a thin smile of his own. "When you are forced to deal with the shit I have to, madame, it saves me the trouble of driving down to the package store every day. Can I interest you in a drink?"

Well, he certainly knew how to make her feel right at home. She relaxed a little. Maybe this wouldn't be terribly awkward after all.

He poured himself a glass of an amber fluid he called scotch, and her a tall snifter of real Armali firewine. "Shepard picked that up the last time she was on Thessia...at the funeral of Benezia. Never had a taste for the stuff myself, too spicy." He set her drink in front of her, rounding the bar to sit down in a battered chair to one side of the room.

She sat on the curious elevated stools in front of the bar and drank deeply, smiling as the fire of the drink raced through her limbs. "I thought human males liked hot things."

He gave her a long look then laughed, a clean and honest laugh. "Shepard said you were interesting to talk to."

She snorted. "Come on. I've talked to her myself. She wouldn't be that diplomatic if you gave her a parliamentary manual and told her to read it verbatim. I can guess what she said about me."

Anderson eased down in a seat across from the bar, his back to the broad windows, and sipped his own drink. "It _was_ complementary … well, for Shepard, that is. Besides, I trained Shepard for some time. If I can put up with her mouth, I can deal with anything coming out of yours, Matriarch."

She smiled. "Aethyta, please. 'Matriarch' just reminds me I'm damned old." She sipped her own drink. "Your call was pretty unclear on what you needed to talk to me about, but I figure that we need to have a crest-to-crest chat anyway, given that our girls are bonded."

Anderson nodded. "I have questions about that, and a few other things. And I need to clarify something." He set his drink aside, a troubled look on his face.

"You do know Sara is not my biological child, correct?" His voice held an odd note, and she shrugged.

"One thing I did during my recovery was link with Liara. I saw through her Shepard's 'parents'. And what they did. If anyone has a claim to be her father, Anderson, it's you, not them." She took a deep drink, and he nodded, a sad expression morphing his already somber features.

When he spoke, his voice was laced with regret and pride both. "Sara is like a daughter to me. She and I met in some rough circumstances, but she's saved my life more than once. She's looked up to me all her adult life,and I have tried very hard to be the guidance she needs. I'm … honored, and more than a little overwhelmed, that she sees me as a father."

His jaw tightened. "That bothers me a lot, because I'm afraid I haven't done a good job of it so far. That is going to change. I've been too accepting of the abuse our government and certain parties have put her through, and I'm not going to put up with that sort of thing anymore."

He glanced back up at her. "I say this because no matter how much I wish differently, a lot of people are going to have problems with this marriage. A lot of people are going to say some pretty hurtful things. I may not always be there when I need to be, given that I have responsibilities of my own. I need to know I can count on you to be there to help her if I'm not."

Aethyta snorted. "I'm not going to vanish again, if that's what you're asking. I'm not real sure what good I can do Shepard, but I can listen, you get good at listening when you run a bar. I couldn't give two fishbits over what some stupid bastard on Earth thinks about my girl and her choice of bondmate, and that goes double for that pack of bitches on Thessia sucking on the T'Armal's tits."

She leaned her back against the bar, eyes narrowing. "I'm more concerned, I have to admit, about what you said about her being abused, and you not stepping up to stop it. I don't know a lot about human culture. Lots of it is confusing, and the rest is like a bad turian drama. I know Shepard has a pretty brutal rep, but like I said, I linked to my daughter's mind, and thus saw at least a few of Shepard's memories, through the link."

She drained her glass. "You'll pardon me for saying your people are completely full of shit when it comes to complaining about turian brutality, given what she went through. She survived things that would have made a Blood Pack slaver curl up and die. I know a lot of it happened before you were a part of her life, and that can't be held against you."

She put her glass down and gave him a hard glance. "But some of it came after. I can't really be happy with you telling me that you could have stopped some of that shit and didn't, and I worry you might let it happen again if you get too caught up in these 'responsibilities' you speak of."

Anderson flinched and looked away. "You're right, madame. As I said, I'm not happy at what I've let happen. I was not seeing the whole picture with what Sara went through for a long time. She has always been exceptional, and for a long time I thought encouraging her to move on and believe in herself would change things. I didn't know or understand everything she'd been through until after I reached my current rank and got full access to certain records. When I did find out, I wanted to throw up. And the very first thing I did when I had the chance and authority was to get her tapped for the Spectre program and put under my direct command."

He picked up his drink again. "I wanted to have a chance to work with Sara, see if I could fix some of what had been done to her by being there for her. I wanted to show her there was a different way to live. Maybe I could have reached her, but Saren and his attack on Eden Prime scotched that plan. I was removed from the Normandy, and Shepard had no one to confide in or to trust. If Liara hadn't come along ..."

Aethyta sighed. "Yeah. Your kid would be dead and probably mine too. Look, we all make fuckups. The important thing is that you don't do it again. Shepard deserves better than for people to ignore the problems she has, and you are someone she looks up to. If you aren't happy about how shit went down in the past, then take the chance to get it right in the future." She examined her empty glass, scowling at it. "Doubting your ability to be a father figure to her is not going to help her. Suck it up and do better."

He nodded, and she walked behind the bar, examining the bottles on it's small shelves and pulling down a bottle of turian brandy in racemic chirality. She poured, a bitter smile on her own features. "And don't beat yourself up too much, Anderson. I'm pretty sure the Worst Dad in the Galaxy award is going to be awarded to me, considering I dartfished out on Liara when she was just a baby, and then spent a century watching her go completely to the abyss and doing nothing to stop it."

She lifted her glass, drinking deeply before slamming it down. "And like Shepard, Liara has people in my government who don't care for her much. I didn't stop them any more than you stopped the ones going after Shepard, and I can't even plead ignorance. Just .. despair." She looked up at him. "So the thing about being there goes both ways. My daughter is so much smarter and more refined, more … innocent than I am. She may need someone to talk to that doesn't remind her of how she was abandoned all her life. And she sees you as someone she can trust."

Anderson exhaled. "Despair is an ugly burden to carry, Aethyta. It wore at me after the First Contact War, watching my home blasted to ruins and burying most of my family. It happened again after my experiences with Saren nearly ruined my career. I drank too much. Didn't focus on the things I should have." He shook his head. "As you told me – the mistakes of the past are just that – in the past. Learn from them and move on, that's all we can do. If I can ever help Liara out in any way, I will. She deserves that much."

He sighed. "As for the marriage, I am more than a little unprepared for all the things we'll have to get done to make it go off without a hitch."

He turned to face her more fully. "First of all, the timing is going to be a little ugly. They're going to get married when they get back to Arcturus. The media will have a damned field day with it, especially since the SA rarely if ever allows such liaisons between command officers and asari, and there's nothing going on in the news to distract them."

Aethyta scowled, then shrugged. "Then why rush it and have it now? I'm all for a good party, but if it's going to stir up shit, why not just wait a while?"

Anderson sighed."Because we may not have a while. Sooner or later, someone is going to figure out they're together, and that will be a scandal. Plus, the marriage is it's own goal. By tying them together, we can protect both Sara and Liara. In Sara's case, it legitimizes her elevation to the nobility. No one can mutter too loudly about the T'Soni not being good enough. And for Liara, it takes her out of the grasp of your Justicar Order."

Aethyta nodded. "Shepard mentioned that. The Justicars aren't going to move on this quickly...as least quickly in human terms, but I hadn't considered the human reaction. In that case, you're right, it's smarter to just get it out of the way."

She paused, then grinned. "I can't wait to see the look on that evil bitch Layana's face when she realizes the Justicars can't go against Liara. I'm half tempted to go to the Hall of the Justicars and stick my tongue out at them."

Anderson burst into laughter at this mental image, before coughing and shaking his head. "Definitely interesting to talk to. Kahlee has been bugging me about how the ceremony would actually be conducted, and I know nothing about asari … handfasting, is it?"

Aethyta nodded. "Yeah. Handfasting is a solemn occasion, very dignified, although there's usually a party afterward that's anything but. It's pretty simple, really. We take a pair of cords from the guts of a fish on Thessia. They are dyed to match … well, color symbolism is a mess. It's based on a lot of things, and we can cover that later. We tie them together, for a full day. Each partner has to figure out how compensate for the loss of one hand by drawing on the bond to aid the other."

She slid back the sleeve of her dress, displaying a slender cord of blue and green, encased in a thin hammered golden band. "It gets cut and turned to a bracelet after a day. Then you get drunk, there's a big orgy for the unhandfasted types, and the two lovers spend the night firming up their bond by sharing memories and facing their fears together."

She refilled her glass. "I can't say I've studied or even seen human weddings."

Anderson smiled. "They tend towards the formal as well. There's music, a procession where the, ah, bride is handed off to the groom after being escorted. There's symbolistic fertility rituals, such as thrown rice, and then a religious figure speaks a set of oaths both agree to, before exchanging rings and kissing." He coughed. "Usually we have parties too, but ah the married couple spend the night consummating the marriage."

Aethyta queried her omnitool, then barked laughter. "That's a fancy word you people got for fucking."

Anderson shook his head ruefully. "I have done some quick research – most human-asari unions blend the two traditions quite a bit. The handfasting pat of the asari ritual is combined with the human musical overtones and processional, whereas the religious aspects are really up in the air. Siari is pretty neutral..."

Aethyta laughed. "Liara isn't a siarist. She may not be a fanatic, but no member of the Thirty is anything but a pure Athameist. Oh, we'll borrow the fancy words and the hand signs, but you can't exactly preach 'all is one' when you're bigger, taller and smarter than commoners. The religious stuff can be a mix of the two, or whatever you think will go over with the humans best – the Thirty won't be offended, since only we are good enough to worship Athame."

She rolled her eyes at this, then pulled out her datapad. "For a handfasting of one of the Thirty, it would be impolite for the current House Matriarch not to be invited. That's Matriarch Suliasa. Since Liara pretty much put her in power, she'll play along. Usually other allied Houses are invited, but few are likely to accept due to a lot of factors, but the closest allies of the House – Vasir, Vael, and Vakas – will send _someone. _For a big name handfasting, sometimes the High Solarch will do the works herself. Might drop her a line."

Anderson arched an eyebrow. "Human weddings aren't much different, except there are no hard and fast rules about who to invite. We don't need to invite big names, although a few such as von Grath would probably demand to appear. Invitations are sent out and confirmations returned. There's usually a meal served after the ritual is completed, possibly dancing." He paused. "Might want to skip that last. Shepard isn't much on the dance floor."

They spent some time going over the specifics – when and who to invite, where to hold it, clothing considerations – before Aethyta felt comfortable enough with Anderson to ask the real question.

"Are you okay with this, with them bonding and marrying?"

Anderson gave her thoughtful look before nodding. "Sara has gone through a lot, and she has baggage. But she wont' just drag Liara down with her. She has something to protect, to look forward to, and I believe she will fight hard to stay with Liara and enjoy her new life. "

Aethyta nodded. "I worry because Liara is so young. For an asari to bond as a maiden is rare and often risky. If they were living lives of safety I wouldn't be that worried, but your girl and mine are going to dangerous places."

Anderson frowned. "I'm not familiar with the details of the asari bond. You say it's risky – in what way?"

Aethyta sighed. Asari educated their young about the sexual habits and needs of other races, why didn't humans? "Simply put, the bond is not just a meld like most asari have when they bang someone. It's a connection on a deep level, and if one of them dies, it could kill the other one or drive them crazy. It could cause them to have mental issues if they go too far with it, forgetting who they are and mixing up memories. It could change their personalities over time, or make them break down."

Aethyta drank. "Depends on how strong Liara is, and how strong Shepard's mind and will are."

Anderson gave a smile at that. "Sara is one of the strongest willed people I know of, Aethyta. And she doesn't usually just leap into things. She'll be careful."

Aethyta ran a finger along Anderson's bar, falling into her own thoughts.

There was little she could do in any case. The link with Liara had been hasty, more a cursory summation than a detailed look at what etched itself in her daughter's mind. What she had seen of Shepard was fragmented, nightmarish and broken, slathered in Liara's own emotional views and an almost frightening level of devotion.

Liara was not skilled at handling or manipulating a bond, and it was a little late for Aethyta to be teaching her, but she'd have to try. There was a lot of bond imprinting going on between her and Shepard. Most asari saw that as dangerous, but Aethyta was more pragmatic. The ugly truth was the imprinting had probably been what kept the two of them sane.

Her daughter's self-esteem had been shattered, and her life up to the point she joined Shepard's crew frankly miserable. Shepard had been broken over and over, too stuck in her own pain to ever just get up and move on with her life. The changes they wrought on each other were jarring, but probably necessary. The ramifications of their bond – the imprinting, the resonance, the spooky way they were already mirroring each others gestures – was not a good sign, but maybe if she helped Liara with understanding the bond it would repair some of that.

Problem was, Aethyta wasn't that hot at bonding either. Most of the time she just did shallow melds to enjoy the sex better. Her bond with Benezia had been effortless, since they were so perfect for each other, but Benezia was a master at controlling the bond and Aethyta had just gone along for the ride.

There were, of course, asari bond-seers and bond-readers, those who trained asari to enhance, repair or control bond linkages between bondmates. But Liara knew things about Shepard too sensitive to trust to any asari bond reader.

She broke the silence in the room by grunting, then she gave a brief shake of her head, running her hand over her crest and wondering at what point during the drinking and talking the itching had finally stopped. "I hope she's careful, Anderson. They've both suffered a lot. I want Liara to have a chance to be happy and enjoy life, but I may have to work with her to make sure she doesn't get carried away."

Anderson poured himself another scotch. "If it helps, I'll talk to Sara. Wouldn't hurt for me to read up some more on bonding."

He sipped his drink. "As far as enjoying themselves... I want them both to have a little time to themselves. The Kazan will have to undergo some final security fittings once they get back, and I'm trying to get the crew – and Shepard and Liara – a couple of weeks of leave before they head out, since they are going through some hard training right now. Scheduling the ceremony at the start of their leave period would be best, give them some time to have what we humans call a honeymoon."

Aethyta pondered on this. "So about two weeks from now? That should give me enough time to get the invites to the asari in question – such things have to be done in person, by the parents of the maiden. I'll leave human and other races invites up to you."

Anderson smiled. "I can do that. I'm sure Officer Vakarian would want to attend, along with Wrex, assuming he's still around."

He laughed. "I've never planned a wedding before, but if I'm expected to manage fleets and ships, I expect we'll get it sorted out. I can handle most of the human invites, putting together an honor guard, get the food catered and arrange the venue if you can handle the rest – figuring out what the asari coming will want to eat, finding an Athameist priestess who won't mind working with a human cleric, and things like the music and the party afterward."

Aethyta nodded but shrugged. "I'll go ahead and get the cords we'll need for the handfasting, and figure out the color matches. But are you sure you want me handling the party? Like I said handfastings start off boring, but the party after tends to devolve into what you humans would call an orgy, and if the media are going to be all over it, that might not go well."

Anderson shook his head. "It will be a private venue,and if I can get her Commissar to play along, not open to the public at all." He shook his head again, more ruefully. "And given the way more than Sara and Liara hooked up on the Normandy, I wouldn't be shocked if certain improprieties happened anyway."

Aethyta laughed, then stood slowly, draining the last of her drink and setting the glass down gently on the bar. "In that case, I should probably get moving. It will take me a week to get to Thessia and back, and then I have to figure out what kind of spread to set. I assume you have the credits to pay for all this?"

Anderson nodded. "I do. I can't think of anything better to spend it on than marrying off my child."


	11. Chapter 11 : Refits and Resolutions

_**A/N:** So...Tali. This chapter started out as an awkward interspecies romance thing, turned into a discourse on SA military logistics and the technology of the Chiron BG, morphed at some point into a sob story for a while, and ended up as this. I wrote and rewrote this chapter a lot. Progman had a significant influence on the outcome. So, if you like it, I'm awesome, if not, blame him. :P _

_(Kidding.)  
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_I've said my piece about how dissapointed and irritated I am with how Bioware depicts Tali on my blog. Tali is one of the core characters in this work, and I do hope she comes off in a good light rather than a walking cultural infodump with a shotgun. There's some infodump here, but I try to make it integral to what is going on, not utterly tangental to the point people joke _about it in later games. I am interested in what people think on my interpretation of Tali, so please let me know in review or PM, if only so I can tweak it._  
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_The quarian terms used later in the story were borrowed and adapted from the **Startling Revelations** quarian dictionary, and are explained at the end of the chapter. _

_Only one recommendation today, a weird one but excellent : ****Phoenix Resurgent**** by Vyrexuviel. It's an interesting and original take on ME2.  
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_As always, if you have questions about some of what is referenced here, leave a review or PM and I will answer as fast as I can. :)_

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><p><em>'Human engineering is much like volus military responses: something they'd rather leave to someone else, but will surprise you when they come up something on their own.'<br>_

_- Clan Matriarch Thessial Ayrixis of Steelshape, 'Dances With M-Strings and G-Strings'  
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><p>Tali looked out over the line of frigates lined up in drydock, outlines blurred by scaffolding and cranes, surfaces swarming with repair bots and dockworkers. The inky blackness of space was lit by long lines of transports stuffed with raw materials, while the factories of the Pinnacle churned forth truck after truck of armor plating, missiles, and other supplies. It was an impressive sight, full of energy and organization.<p>

Tali didn't know whether to be proud she had helped play a role in such a huge endeavor, or upset she hadn't been of more use. She'd expected to spend most of her time working with and directing the refit,since she was Shepard's Chief Engineer. While she knew she wasn't really familiar with all the technology used by humans, she had done well on the Normandy.

She knew she was smart, and a fast learner. She had figured it would be easy, working with human engineers and shipwrights on the Kazan and the rest of the fleet's refit, and spending time doing some study of Alliance engineering technology and principles. She'd also expected to do some training with Admiral Ahern, but she'd handled herself pretty well in the chase of Saren, and figured she'd just get some tips like Wrex had done for her.

She also figured she could spend whatever spare time she had figuring out how to proceed with whatever kind of relationship she was in with Jeff. If they had a chance to just sit down and talk, she was sure things would make more sense.

She'd had her perceptions on all these expectations corrected forcibly.

Unlike Shepard and Liara, Tali's time on Pinnacle had not been carefully planned. She ended up splitting her days working with engineers on the refits, learning about Alliance technology, and being beaten to a pulp by Ahern, who fitted her into his schedule when he had the time.

The largest part of her job was overseeing the refit of the three destroyers and five frigates that made up Shepard's fleet, but it became less about overseeing and more about fixing things she saw as flawed. She found herself attending meetings with senior human engineers and staff from the Systems Alliance Bureau of Military Ship Design, which most humans abbreviated to BuShips. The meetings went over all the changes they planned to make, with lots of arguing about who would pay for what and time-lines.

Tali was used to the quarian methods of refit, where ships were carefully assessed on their usefulness to the Fleet and how much it would cost to make them spaceworthy. The process she witnessed was more political and financial than technical, and she felt out of place listening to the discussions.

Shepard didn't seem to enjoy them much either, and more than once dragged Tali outside of the area where the meetings were held, smoking cigarettes and bitching about BuShips.

"Shepard, this isn't like any refit I'm used to. Why is there so much bickering?"

Shepard smiled, exhaling smoke and leaning against the wall of the Engineering Complex. "That's a long and stupid story, Tali. The short version is that the Alliance is trying to write checks with it's mouth that it's ass can't cash. The fleet just had the shit blown out of it, and everyone is screaming for more protection, more fleet coverage. So there's repairs going on all over the place, and only so much money allocated to it."

Shepard flicked ashes from her cigarette, shaking her head. "What is going on in there is basically dick-waving. The engineers have their orders and my authority from the President is pretty much absolute. BuShips is a pack of goddamned penny-pinching bean counters who we have to go through to order everything and get approval from to modify the ships we have."

Tali nodded. "And since the frigates are so old, modifying them costs the most."

Shepard nodded in return. "Yeah. It's a clusterfuck. It will be a week before we actually get any damned work done, I expect. The only reason I even show up is to shove BuShips back in place when they get too mouthy. When the actual work starts, you'll need to supervise what they do,if only to make sure they don't try to screw us with sub-standard equipment."

Tali had discussed the changes Shepard wanted with both the Assistant Engineer of the Kazan and the lead Engineer of the refit team, Commander James Tiva. The fleet's capabilities would be quite impressive when everything was done, although she didn't grasp all the various things they discussed, especially the weapons tech Lieutenant Commander Colms went on and on about in his creepy quiet voice. Colms did make a point of asking her about geth technology and defenses, and she told him what she could, recommending that if he needed more information that he could always contact the Migrant Fleet and Han'Gerrel vas Neema.

She spent most of the days during the first week alone. Joker was tied up with training the frigate pilots, Liara and Shepard immersed in their own training, and even the Kazan marines were busy. Since no real work was being done on the ships while the engineers argued and planned, she ended up trying to fill her days productively, reading up on the specifications of the ships, and on mingling with the Marine combat engineers that were training at Pinnacle.

She felt more than a little under-prepared in the aspect of being in charge of the combat engineering aspect of her job, and resolved to see how humans did it. Spending some time with the engineers from Pinnacle, she found out that human combat engineers were more soldiers than techs, and most human info-war programs were directed towards combat applications. She picked up what she could of these, offering them some quarian info-war programs in return.

As with the Marines on the Normandy, they were also endlessly gushing over the Reegar electroplasma shotgun she had, and she found herself making a rather large amount of money by rigging up simple electroplasma collectors for several Marines to augment their pistols or rifles with.

When the work on the ships finally got started, Tali spent time helping where she could. That's when she got her first real understanding of the differences in human and quarian methods.

The quarian tech base was a mix of their own technology with primarily salarian and turian bits and pieces cobbled together. It required additional work even to function in tandem with other systems, and almost all of the software they had was written from scratch. Engineering on a quarian ship was a dance of balancing tight resources, old code, and keeping a number of nearly-failing systems going a bit longer. They focused on making sure everything worked and that even beginning engineers could fix whatever problems popped up, since resources were so limited.

Humans, on the other hand, almost entirely used asari technology, augmented with whatever they'd managed to adapt to and integrate. Thus, as the refit began and Tali worked alongside the engineers and ship-fitters, she found she had to learn the intricacies of asari technology as adapted by humans, which was made more difficult by the fact that the humans used more than a little asari technology without fully understanding it in the first place.

Humans relied on packaged technologies and many of their 'repairs' were more akin to swapping out damaged parts for new ones and tossing the old ones out. They were clever in adapting pieces of asari equipment to their own technology, and Tali learned that many human companies actually built their tech as a wrapper around core pieces of asari optronics or other things the humans couldn't make themselves.

She found the human viewpoint on such things very frustrating. She'd seen it before, during the shakedown run, the stupid and wasteful overindulgence in backups, the "if it ain't broke don't fix it" attitude. But to see engineers happily installing systems that they had no idea how they worked seemed very wrong to her.

She tried pointing out inefficiencies in their methods, or issues with the installations that would cause repair problems down the line, only to be told that it had to be done a certain way 'because that's the way the asari taught us'. Instead of breaking things down and learning, humans were willing to simply slap together anything that worked and call it a day. Worse, from her point of view, the irritating bosh'tets from BuShips went along with this method, because it was cheaper to simply buy the tech from the asari in kits than investing time and effort in building the systems from scratch.

Things came to a head when it came to refitting one of the frigates as a scout, using an asari-based sensor package that literally had no instructions. That required assistance from the asari engineering group at Pinnacle, whom Tali had quickly come to hate. Aside from the fact that they made her feel clumsy and ugly, the asari were also condescending to her and tend to focus more on the humans than bothering to teach her anything. Rather than bother to answer questions, they simply assembled the pieces and left, leaving Tali and her teams to make sure connections were fitted, the hull breaches they made to install the tech was repaired, and so on.

When she'd asked some of the asari engineers about power drains and other difficulties she'd run into when integrating the systems, she found that they didn't want her learning about their technology. What little explanation they gave was so basic she could have figured it out herself, and they tended to talk snidely among themselves about her when they thought she couldn't hear them.

Tali responded by finding several areas of the refit where the asari had not done a proper job and pointing it out to the lead shipwright, but the man had merely shrugged it off. He told her that human methods had been working for years, and changing the way the asari did things might offend them, which couldn't be allowed to happen given that humans relied so much on that relationship in certain fields.

O-ATTWN-O

Tali found herself hoping the asari tripped over their oversized breasts, and gave up on trying to deal with the frustratingly obtuse asari technology. She caught up to Liara at one point in the second week, and the two sat on the mess deck of the Kazan drinking water. Liara was resting from a workout with Susan, and Tali was tired from spot-welding and crawling along hulls all day. Irritated and exhausted, she had vented a little to Liara about the situation, especially about the bosh'tet asari engineering staff.

Liara looked worn, but had listened politely, and her words were as gentle as usual. "Asari clan engineers are well known for their airs of superiority when dealing with aliens. I fear I can be of little use in teaching you much about our technology, since I am hardly an engineer, although I will be happy to go over whatever I learn with you."

Tali huffed, sipping at her water. "Why can't they be more like you?"

Liara had laughed at that. "I have often asked myself the same question, Tali. I can only say that the asari people value the sense of mystery that we project to others. My people tend to build things in a manner that is difficult to replicate, due to worries about salarians reverse engineering some of our more prized inventions."

Tali nodded, and folded her arms. "I can get that. But they are so rude! And the humans just let them do whatever they like without even questioning it. I spent all day doing welds and repairs on the hull of one of the frigates where they installed new sensor packages, and the asari had not even bothered to check to make sure all the connections were hardened against EMP!"

Liara gave her a calming smile. "My people tend to overspecialize. They are probably used to someone else coming along behind their work and doing what you did today – touching up on things they missed. The humans … Shepard has explained to me some of the situation. Humanity depends heavily on the asari and they hesitate to criticize asari methods or practices. Maybe they are simply trying to avoid offending us."

Tali snorted. "Or too busy staring at their breasts, more likely."

Liara laughed again. "I have noticed human fixation on certain asari attributes, but my own people also tend to emphasize such. I fear the most important invention the asari gained from humanity was the concept of artificial breast enlargement." She paused. "Well, that and chocolate."

Tali blinked, then shook her head. "I so wish you were teasing me."

O-ATTWN-O

Aside from overseeing the refit and learning about the ship systems, Tali spent a great deal of time engaged in various projects and pastimes. She spent time with the Assistant Engineer on the Kazan, learning the ins and outs of engineering requisitions. She worked with Shepard on adjusting some things on her Spectre armor, based on criticisms made by Admiral Ahern.

She spent time with Doctor Sedanya, per Shepard's orders, in detailing the requirements for a proper clean room in quarian fashion, ending up converting one of the lower-deck escape pod enclosures for that purpose. Still, when not being run into the deck by Ahern or helping with the refit, she found she had plenty of spare time.

Joker was still occupied with training the frigate pilots, so she decided to take the time to communicate with her father and Aunt Shala'Raan. Her conversation with her father was fairly perfunctory – he was glad to hear she was training with Ahern to increase her survivability, and his voice had a hint of smug pride when she complained about human engineering methods.

"Typical. When they end up losing ships to such negligence, no doubt they will complain it was sabotage instead of laziness."

She smirked, but shook her head. "I just don't understand why they act this way, Father. They are clearly highly intelligent and I don't see this trend of deference to the asari in their ground soldiers."

He sighed, his eyes crinkling as he gave a wry smile beneath his mask. "Tali, humans are still very new to the galactic scene. They are not natural engineers or systems builders, but improvisers. It hardly surprises me that they are using things they don't grasp in their reckless rush to prove themselves equal to the other races, nor does it shock me that the asari have used their haste against them."

Tali tilted her head. "Against them?"

Rael, sitting in his quarters, placed his fingers together, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly. "Some of this is politics, which you have not really been exposed to at a high level yet. In short, the asari have not remained the premiere civilization in the galaxy by merely looking pretty. They have very advanced technology – some of it beyond even salarian or quarian understanding. But their main method of staying in control is through using the weaknesses of other races against them."

He coughed, a sour note entering his hard voice. "The asari have always been skilled at finding advantage. They are ensuring the humans rely on them for technological advancement and investment, even while earning gratitude from them. They offer their technology freely to the humans, which not only stops them from buying salarian – or quarian – systems, but also lets them reap the advantages of any improvements the humans come up with for free."

Tali scowled. "Humans aren't dumb, father – they must realize this is happening."

He nodded. "They are not dumb, but they are still probably very frightened. The turians had them minutes from complete conquest when the asari saved them, and I suppose there is also the fact that asari resemble them so strongly. Unconsciously they probably trust them more than other aliens. There is also the fact that sometimes you give up one advantage to gain a greater one. The humans may be taken advantage of in some ways, but the asari are terrifying allies, and probably have stopped the batarians or turians from further aggression."

As usual, he continued to urge her to be cautious and again suggested coming home rather than risking her life with Shepard, but at least they ended their talk in a polite manner.

Tali's conversation with Shala'Raan was more upbeat. Her aunt was delighted at the changes already happening for the Flotilla, as quarian society shifted it's focus and operations to rejoin Citadel society for the first time in centuries. She filled Tali in on the developments and new events, as well as how quarians were slowly getting used to the idea of not being vagabond wanderers any longer.

"We've already scouted two worlds the turians find too cold and dry, but would be perfect for our people. And the volus have begun enlisting the help of the Engineering Chorus to assist with building their first dreadnaught, giving us docking rights and mining rights in return. For the first time in centuries we have hope, Tali."

Tali smiled. "I'm so happy to hear that. Jeff is always telling me that the quarian people will make it through, but I'm glad to see it actually happening."

Shaala's eyes crinkled. "You keep mentioning this Jeff, even more than Shepard. Who is he?"

Tali stammered a bit. "Just a friend...I .. he helped me quite a bit in the search for Saren. With fitting in with the humans. He's the best pilot I've ever seen or even heard of."

Shaala laughed. "Oh, Prazza'Mal will debate that. He was bragging loudly that he'd managed to take out a pair of pirates by a slingshot maneuver that let him crash their missiles into each other."

Tali snorted, and related some of Joker's more incredible piloting stunts, including the insane stunts he'd pulled at Feros, and Shaala gave a low whistle. "He sounds very impressive, Tali. Although your voice and posture suggest he is more than a friend."

Tali was quiet for a long time, before speaking in a quiet tone. "I don't know for sure. Or rather, I do, I'm just not sure if I'm ready to admit it to myself or him. I...I know that too many of the males aboard the Fleet just see me as the Admiral's Daughter. Every time someone showed an interest, it was because they wanted to use me to get in close to my father. Most of them didn't even bother to hide it, as if I should be honored some Nara or Koris found me a good brood mare."

Shaala sighed. "I can't say that isn't true, but getting involved with aliens is dangerous, Tali. Turians are one thing. They're dextro like us, and due their plating can stand under a sterilization lamp before anything intimate. Humans are not...and just because some of the males of the Flotilla act like idiots is no reason to assume anyone interested in you can't see the beautiful person you are."

Tali shook her head. "He...Keelah." She swallowed, trying to explain the tangle of emotions. The frustration she felt for him, for his condition, for the way he was treated. The anger and fury at how his own people ignored his true feelings. The gentleness and tenderness he always showed towards her, his humor and good cheer when she was down. The real anger in his voice when he ranted at the shopkeepers who discriminated against her on the Citadel.

She found herself almost angry that Shaala didn't see why he was important to her, and when she told her of the conversation they'd been forced into having in Shepard's stateroom – about his pained statement that he didn't expect her to sacrifice her home or her chance to have a family for him, and his sad look when she didn't know how to reply, Shaala interrupted her.

"Tali. Calm down." The quarian woman ran her hands along the edges of her reik, tugging at it in a sign of agitated thought. "There is an old saying that comes to mind. Love only knows what it wants, not how to get there. I can't tell you not to chase happiness, but I don't want you to be hurt, either."

She glanced away. "Your father never told you, but when he was on his Pilgrimage on the Citadel, he became involved – romantically – with a turian female. He was quite attached to her. He came very close to not returning to the Flotilla, and only did so when she died in tragic circumstances to save his life. He was very bitter when he came back, and it was only your mother who – through long and hard devotion – drew him out of that depression."

Tali's eyes widened. Her father had been sleeping with a turian girl? "H-How long did …."

Shaala shrugged. "Two years. Sanas Sovirian was a very incredible turian. Her death was a tragedy, and is one reason why your father is so cold and bitter today. I don't want you to make the same mistake in regards to falling in love with an alien and being torn between duty and love." She shivered. "I also wouldn't mention this to your father..."

Tali sighed. "He probably already suspects. He spent a lot of time talking with Jeff when I was … hurt. He knows Jeff has seen me outside of my suit."

Shaala nodded. "And how well did he handle seeing you? Only a few humans have, and some of them took it poorly."

Tali swallowed. "He said I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen."

Shaala sighed, then laughed. "I think I'll send you a few packets of tucharel tea. You have some hard thinking to do, and tea always helps. My advice is the same as it has always been, Tali. Don't follow your father's footsteps. Do what makes you happy. Believe in yourself. Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain."

Tali dissolved in laughter.

O-ATTWN-O

Tired of not being able to find Joker, she spent a few hours looking for him, only to find him the fighter flight training center with Ahern, surrounded by fighter pilots. Joker took a quick break to say hi and ask how her day went, a question she sort of ignored of favor of asking what he was doing.

"Owning everyone on this station." He cackled, and Ahern shouted at him to get back in the simulator.

She hadn't interacted with any of the other pilots on the station in her refits, because they rarely had anything to do with her. On top of that, they all seemed insulting and cocky to her, constantly bragging how they'd own the 'frigate boy' in any real dogfight when his name came up.

Joker had apparently taken that as a challenge, and after finishing training the frigate pilots each day, came here to show up Ahern's best.

When Joker took the best that Ahern's pilots could throw at him in the simulators without breaking a sweat, Ahern got interested, then irritated, and finally completely furious. She got laugh after laugh watching Ahern heap abuse on his pilots for losing, especially as the man became more and more foul-mouthed as his frustration rose.

"He's ONE goddamned man! There are eleven of you spastic fuckups and you can't take one fucking man? I have no fucking clue who trained you simpering imbeciles, and when I find out they'd better have an answer as to why you all just got owned in an eleven to one dogfight."

After a particularly bad beating, one pilot had decided to pull up Joker's service record. Upon seeing his rating – class fifteen, the highest possible in the SA systems – several pilots had implied they weren't trained to Joker's level. Ahern had hurled his hat across the training room and exploded into profanity.

"He's been in service nine goddamned years, and eight of them were flying warships! You've been flying fighters for fifteen! You expect me to believe he's more fucking experienced? Pull your shit together and stop him, or I will have you clean the entire fucking fighter bay with your goddamned tongue!"

Another simulation ended in disaster, and one particularly bitter pilot complained Joker must have hacked the system somehow.

The salarian tech laughed himself silly at the idea, while Ahern stood over the man and glared.

"The system is written in fucking turian and salarian code! Unless he's a fucking polymath and can code as well as he beats the shit out of you clowns, he has as much chance of hacking the system as you do of ever being fucking promoted again in my command. That is the stupidest fucking thing I have heard all goddamned week. You're so fucking shitbrained that if you fell into a barrel of titties, you would come out sucking your thumb! Get out of my face!"

Tali had muffled her suit speakers so Ahern couldn't hear her guffawing.

A couple of the pilots protested the simulation was 'unfair'. Ahern had literally turned red. "Unfair? What is fucking unfair is that some of my goddamned hard-earned taxpayer dollars are going into your salaries, and you rejects can't even stop one fucking man from owning you nine of you like a krogan in a goddamned nursery. Get the fuck back in the simulation and kill that arrogant little bastard, or I will shove my feet up both your asses and wear you around like a pair of autistic flip-flops!"

Tali had problems breathing from laughing so hard, especially when Ahern, determined to find something Joker couldn't handle, loaded up an old simulation of the turian invasion of Sol during the First Contact War. Joker eventually died, but not before knocking fifteen turian fighters out of the sky, taking out the bridge of a cruiser, and even landing two torpedoes on the turian command dreadnaught, something the entirety of the _Solguard_ had failed to do in real life.

Ahern was speechless for at least a full minute while Joker smugly smiled at him, his mouth opening, then closing, then opening again. Finally, he jabbed a finger at Jeff and snarled. "You're a good pilot. I can't seem to find anyone to beat you in the pilots chair, but I can fucking kill you by tripping you. Don't get too goddamned cocky."

O-ATTWN-O

She trained with the admiral whenever she had free time after she finished refit efforts, mostly on a mix of combat survival, info-war tactics, and mixing up various tactical approaches. It was hard and he didn't coddle her, often losing his temper when she didn't perform up to his expectations and making her repeat things over and over.

Given their first meeting, she had expected nothing less. When she'd first showed up for training, he'd ordered her to report to his office armed. From what she had heard from Shepard, Liara, Cole and some of the Kazan's marines, this was likely involve Ahern screaming at her, so she stiffened her spine and decided she wasn't going to be pushed around by some bosh'tet with glittery shoulders.

She entered, walking up to the Admiral sitting at his desk, her posture confident. He was reviewing something on a pad and nodded as she entered, gesturing to a chair in front of the desk. "Have a sit down, Ms. Zorah. I'm going over some information on you and I have some questions, but first I need to say a few things first."

He tapped the padd. "I'm glad to see that you are like me regarding hard work. You work harder than any of the other people in your engineering team. You dislike waste and you take pride in what you have accomplished. Your reports are all positive in terms of your maturity and your refusal to accept second-best bullshit or sloppy work. This is good."

He leaned back in his chair. "While you have certainly survived an ordeal that would reduce most people to a smear, that isn't to say you didn't make mistakes. You are far too aggressive when fighting geth, and too reliant on others to soak damage for you in a firefight. In that regard, you are not so good."

He tapped the padd. "For a military officer in the Systems Alliance, your skills frankly suck. For a civilian teenager caught up in a situation that would leave most people a weeping wreck, you're actually damn near awesome. I don't say that to complement you or insult you – merely to state a fact."

She nodded, his demeanor reminding her a lot of her father, and he continued. "I am unfortunately rather time limited, since most of my focus is spent on working with Shepard and T'Soni. That woman needs a lot of work, and LTC T'Soni isn't much better. The magnitude of their shitfuckery is far more inexcusable than yours, since Shepard is supposed to be a special forces soldier and the asari has been alive longer than I have."

He shrugged. "Since you've been working on the refit and increasing your engineering knowledge, I know you aren't the kind of person who just sits on their ass. Shepard, your Commissar, and several engineering officers have all highlighted you as a very hard worker with an excellent attention to detail. That is very commendable." He held up a finger.

"However, you are not a trained soldier and you do not show the same focus in training yourself to be one.. You are, and don't take this the wrong way, fragile. A literal glass cannon. No matter how hard you hit, you can't take a hit. You've already lost a goddamned leg and had, according to the records, three severe suit breeches, when most of your people die after one. You have been extremely lucky so far, but luck is the worst possible thing to depend on when guns are blazing."

"Given that as the Chief Engineer there is no damned reason for you to be traipsing around on some hostile planet, stumbling around in a dank goddamned hole full of geth and getting yourself ventilated, I'm hoping that your focus on being a good engineer and not focusing on combat training won't come back to haunt you."

"I'll do what I can to give you some tips and improve your survivability. But keep in mind that you're not a front-line combatant, and that going head-up against trained special forces soldiers like Saren is stupid. Leave heroics to people who get shot for a living. The only thing you prove by being shot is that you are too stupid to duck. You've gone up against odds that no civilian teenager should have to face, and your luck won't hold forever."

She squared her shoulders. "My father said similar things when I trained with the Migrant Fleet Marines. He told me that I didn't need to … prove I was some kind of hero by being nearly killed." She sighed. "But I don't want to simply stand around being useless either. I'm happy to learn whatever you can teach me. I'm not just a helpless child, Admiral."

He sighed. "No, you are not. You've got just enough skill to get yourself brutally killed instead of just instantly killed. I've worked with quarian marines before. Your people have had to deal with a lot of bullshit over the years, and I'm sure it has lead many of you to be bitter. To feel like you have something to prove. But the words your father gave you were absolutely correct. You survived Saren. That pretty much proves to anyone with a damned brain you aren't merely a 'helpless child', but there's a large difference between surviving once and being ready for combat of that level on a regular basis."

She shook her head. "I do understand what you are saying, and I know my skills need improvement. I'm willing to work hard to do just that. I cannot back out on my oath made to the Alliance simply because I face danger. And I am tired of my father trying to lock me away in safety. I chose this job – to take Sara's offer – because I need to prove something to myself. That when I feel ready and go back to my people that I am an adult."

She sighed. again "And to show my father that I can take care of myself."

Ahern flinched at her words, and glanced away. Tali frowned. His posture had shifted, from bored to … pained. As if something she had said had hurt him. She fidgeted a bit in her seat as the silence stretched on. "Admiral Ahern?"

He didn't say anything for a long moment, then gave her a hard look. It was a look filled with pain, and loss, and something darker. "Ms. Zorah. Do you honestly believe that? That you can take care of yourself?"

He forced an exhalation of breath. "I've buried a lot of good soldiers who thought that. Friends. People I cared about deeply. One day I'll tell you about it. What I want you to get through your skull for now is that you CANNOT take care of yourself. You are full of stupid, ignorant ideas about proving yourself. What do you think your father will do, or your family, if you 'prove' yourself by dying? Do you think they will be happy you died like a goddamned hero? Or shattered at losing you?"

She wilted under his glare. Auntie Raan would be distraught. Her father …

Before she could finish the thought, Ahern exhaled again, and his jaw tightened. "I am going to run you into the motherfucking ground, Ms. Zorah. I am going to drill you until you curse the day you even picked up a gun, and then drill you some more."

He stood. "Since I don't have much time with you, my focus will be on first making sure you stop treating cover as if it was going to bite you and learn how to not stop biotic shockwaves with your leg."

True to his word, he was absolutely brutal.

He didn't bother with Tali's physical conditioning so much as her balance and coordination. He told her that physical strength wouldn't do her much good, and that speed and evasiveness would serve her better. Her cybernetic leg was not something she'd adjusted to yet, and he spent the first sessions working on that.

He made her duck in and out of cover in an obstacle course, cursing when she wasn't fast enough and making her start over, until she was soaked in sweat and her limbs were trembling. He had her learn the marine method of cover-crawling, wriggling on the ground to lower her profile, and the entire time he lectured her on the importance of staying out of sight.

"You live and die by that goddamned suit. The less fire you take, the less fucking holes it develops and the less likely you are to die of horribly consumptive fucking viruses. Or you can just keep having limbs shot off until you're the quarian version of a Shieldbreaker, I suppose."

Ahern had the armor plates of her suit removed, and shipped them off to be augmented with projected omni-armor fields backstopped with an inch of ballistic spall padding. Once she had them reattached, he suggested she lighten the weight by way of eezo-assisted lift fields built into the armor itself, much as she had incorporated into Jeff's braces.

While she fiddled with that on the side, he made her do endless shotgun drills. He agreed with much of what Wrex taught her, and had her go through it again and again until her arms ached so badly she cried, but he just pushed her harder. "The enemy is not going to give a shit if you are tired, or sore, or wounded. Pain lets you know you have not bled the fuck out yet. Do it fucking again, correctly this time, or I will keep you here all fucking night and the refit can go directly to hell."

He dragged her to the armory and had her fire off a selection of submachine guns, finally outfitting her with a human aftermarket conversion of an asari Tempest, with the plasma-caster removed and replaced with human kinetic rail technology. It fired very rapidly with low recoil, and Ahern had tweaked it with a pulse resonance ring at the barrel, so the shots would do more damage to a biotic's barriers. Between it and her Reegar, he felt she could deal with any medium to close range threats – if she was good enough.

That led to submachine gun drills, mostly against hordes of simulated enemies in a VI-controlled holographic combat environment. "Suppression, evasion, misdirection! If they can't fucking pin you down, they cannot stop you. When you stop moving, you start dying."

Only when he was satisfied with her evasion and suppression skills did he combine the two with her shotgun practice, moving into the tricky part of combat: closing range. Ideally she would use her info-war abilities and submachine gun fire to cover her advance, then draw enemies into her cone of fire and unload with her Reegar.

"Your shotgun will drop anything from pissed off krogan to geth, but it's not a weapon meant to run and gun with. Draw them to YOU, make them expose themselves and aim to cripple. It fires in a sweeping cone, so use that like a fan, sweep them down and make sure they can't get in close quarters range."

When he moved onto training her in combat engineering and info-war techniques, he was equally critical of her existing skill set. He was not, she found, a big fan of drones. "Drones are wonderful little shits until some other asshole with a better routing switch in his omni hacks it and kills you with your own tech. The fact that you tend to use them against geth, of all fucking things, is so dense I'm surprised light doesn't bend around you. They hack things better than anyone else!"

He had her modify her drones to operate mostly as recon and distraction devices rather than direct combat systems. "The quarian marine use of drones to magnify your forces is great in mass combat. But for you, what you need is awareness to make sure no one gets close, and time to pull off other combat engineering feats, not some shiny target spewing missiles and saying 'please send a missile my way'."

He instead gave her several programs to generate what Marines called 'party favors'. They were simple flash-compression plasma grenades cast in a thin magnetic field that splashed plasma and a burst of electrical feedback into whatever they hit. Another program he gave her would allow them to arc high and home in on a target, while a third let her combine them with her tech mines to form 'sticky' traps.

Other 'tricks' included staged weapon hacks that would, instead of completely shutting down a weapon, throw a fluctuation into it's accelerator pattern, making fire from the weapon extremely inaccurate. Augmented plasma throwers, cascading and rebounding 'omnishock' clouds, and a nasty hack-script that would mess with the onboard life support units of some kinds of armor were also things he added.

He also focused on increasing her defenses, particularly to incoming fire. Along with the omni-armor, he had her use a larger and more powerful omni-shield, with a larger power supply she installed in the spaces of her cybernetic leg. The shield was large enough to block almost all incoming fire, with a notch in the side to allow suppressive fire with her SMG. Combined with routing electrical charges to the shield for close combat, it doubled her ability to soak fire.

The third and fourth weeks he focused on maneuver and cover again, but this time under heavy fire and combined with info-war techniques. He had her add more functions to her drones, adding a mix of close range suppression and harassment to the recon functions, and switching the micro-missiles for a plasma projector and a wide angle arc electrical stun field that would also scramble geth who got caught by it. He figured her turret was pretty good as it was, but had her replace the rarely used ECM functions on it with a static hard shield generator, adding a third layer of possible protection.

"Your goal is not just to make yourself a hard target, but one that is too much of a goddamned pain to waste time trying to crack. That lets you do your hacking or info-war magic without some bastard trying to smash your head open. Incoming light fire will just bounce, and the heavier stuff should at least be deflected long enough for you to reposition, asses,and lay down traps. Use them to control the enemy movement! Don't get flanked."

By the fifth week, she felt she had improved quite a bit. Rather than charging forward and using her drones to shoot things while she flanked, she now could hunker down in heavy cover and launch wave after wave of info-war attacks, multifunction drones, and various grenades to harass and wear down an opponent before going in for the kill.

He had seemed pleased about her level of progress, but as she recovered from her final training session, he had an odd, unhappy expression on his face. She bit her lip and walked over to him, shipping her shotgun as she did so.

He looked at her, giving a faint, bitter smile. "Looking back on what you've learned, Ms. Zorah...do you still think that you could have taken care of yourself before we started this?"

She ducked her head. "No. I … I was convinced that I had to … I don't know." She wrung her hands. "All my life I was under the gaze of everyone, expected to live up to being as good as my father, and I never felt like I was! He didn't even want me to go on Pilgrimage to prove myself, but I did, and if I hadn't what might have happened?"

She glared up at him, and he nodded. "What indeed."

He sighed. "Young lady, I think there is a time in life every person wants to prove themselves. Show they are ready, that they deserve respect. But it is also the most dangerous time in a young person's life, because they usually_ aren't_ ready, and few people get a chance to make sure they really prepare themselves for this cold old galaxy."

He sighed, glancing away. "You told me you wanted to prove to your father that you weren't a little girl anymore. That you could take care of yourself. Those words hit me, because I've heard them before." He tapped his omni, bringing up a haptic image frame in midair. The face of a young human woman appeared, dark red hair framing kind eyes and a laughing smile, her features a softer version of Ahern's.

"My daughter, Amanda. My only child. She was nineteen when she joined the Marine Corps, fresh and eager to protect humanity. I worried constantly about her, especially when she refused to work for me in the safety here at Pinnacle and instead ending up serving with a frontier defense unit on a colony in the Traverse. We argued quite a bit, mainly because she kept getting hurt in the line of duty, trying to prove that she was as much of a badass as her daddy."

"She told me to stop worrying. She could take care of herself. And rather than tell her how stupid she was, I just told her I was proud of her and knew she could."

He closed his eyes. "Batarian pirates struck the colony she was stationed at, at least three ships worth of the bastards. The civilians were herded to the shelters while the defense unit dug in and waited for relief from the RIU and Third Fleet. The CO was a spineless fucking coward who, instead of falling back in good order, panicked. The XO was a good soldier, but out of her depth, and her inexperience left her flank exposed." He sighed. "If the flank collapsed, the pirates would have taken down the last GARDIAN tower and overrun the shelters."

His voice was even and cold, now, and Tali almost shuddered when he opened his eyes, his gaze dead. "Rather than fall back, Amanda and her best friends led their detachment in a charge to break the batarian advance. They succeeded, driving the four-eyed fucks back long enough for more marines to shore up the breach, and they held long enough for relief forces to arrive and drive them off for good."

"But in the attack, she got killed. Rather than stay in cover and watch her friends get killed, she lead from the front. She killed six of the bastards and dragged two of her friends away from the fighting, but she didn't check her six. She forgot what I taught her, trying to be a damned hero. A sniper shot her. Twice. The first shot didn't kill her, broke her back."

He grimaced. "She might have survived, if she'd crawled away, but the sniper started targeting her friends. She threw grenades at the batarians, drawing their fire, allowing her friends to get away, and the sniper's next shot killed her."

His voice was weary, cold, and soft. "The SA made her into a goddamned heroic martyr, named a fucking cruiser after her, and gave her the Star of Terra. People came to tell me how proud I must have been of her, of her sacrifice, and her devotion to protect innocent lives."

Tali nodded slowly. That kind of sacrifice sounded like something straight out of the Fleet Marines, in the endless tales they had of how a quarian had died so that his or her shipmates could live.

Ahern looked up at her, face twisting in sorrowful anger. "I didn't want to be proud of her, Ms. Zorah. I didn't want to fucking sacrifice her. I wanted my daughter alive. I wanted to hear her laugh, to watch her smile. I wanted to see her get married and have children, to settle down and move beyond merely being a soldier. I wanted to protect her from this sick, evil fucking cesspool we live in."

He laughed, bitterly. "Instead, I was scared of driving her away. Instead of demanding she stay safe, using my influence to get her off the goddamned frontier, I told myself she wasn't a little girl anymore That she had to make her own choices. That she didn't need me interfering in her life."

His voice was so bitter she flinched. "That she could take care of herself." He was silent for several seconds, then shook his head.

The admiral gave her a steady, hard look. "I read in the reports that Shepard filed on you that you had friction with your father. Shepard seems to think he is too hard on you, too dismissive of your achievements."

He snorted. "Given that Shepard can't even understand the reactions of humans all the time, I'm not surprised she fucked up identifying why your father is against this idea, and upset you are out here and not back home on your Migrant Fleet. He's against it not because he doesn't believe in you, but because the last thing any father can bear is watching his little girl get hurt. Or worse, fucking killed."

He lifted his jaw. "I just put you through as much training as I could, and I'm sure it was hard. Hell, you probably hate me for it. But I did it, Ms. Zorah, for the best of reasons. I have enough goddamned nightmares in my sleep, of shit I've gotten wrong and friends left dead in a hundred battles. I have a lot of black marks on my soul, but I will be damned to the lowest circle of Hell before I look another father in the eye and tell him I let his little girl dash out into combat and get her head blown off because she needed to feel _useful_."

He folded his arms. "I'm praying you remember what I said. It will save your life, and that of your comrades. But if you won't listen to me for that, then at least think of your father, and don't make him suffer what I go through every day because you want to prove you aren't a child."

With that, he turned away, leaving her to do some hard thinking about the path she was on, and how she really wanted to proceed.

O-ATTWN-O

It was in light of that conversation that she sat down one evening and pulled up the Alliance comm database, scrolling through links until she found the communication address for Lieutenant Dost, the kindly human who'd rescued her on Caleston. She'd not forgotten the fact that he lived with, and was apparently intimate, with a quarian female, Kiala'Shaal. Tali had learned that Kiala'Shaal was exiled from the fleet, for reasons to do with the Severing Rebellion a few years back, where several ship captains had decided to break away from the Flotilla to work for Aria T'Loak.

Tali had been too young to remember many details, but it had clearly poisoned Kiala'Shaal against her own people. She'd been sharp and hostile to Tali during the time she was there, and Dost had repeatedly apologized for her vitriol.

Still, Tali had no one else she could think of to ask for advice about Jeff, much less her career in the SA. Ahern's story had rattled her spirits and put her father's attitude towards her in an entirely new light, and she realized she couldn't, to borrow Shepard's words, keep running in place if she wanted to end up anywhere.

She exhaled as the comm link came online, then smiled as Dost's broad-shouldered form and kindly features filled the screen. "Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. Long time no see."

She bobbed her head. "Lieutenant Dost, it's good to see you again. Did you get my message and Troyce's ship?"

Dost's face flickered with pain, and he nodded. "Yeah, I did. I was worried about that old man, even before he took that last job. I should have known something was off about it, but I didn't expect the Broker to break his own rules about the safety of informants to sniff out a traitor. I nearly got you killed, and I did get him killed. I'm sorry."

Tali shook her head. "It isn't your fault. I felt it was mine, but I... I realize now that I couldn't have stopped the krogan. They were just too strong, and Troyce ... died well, as cold as that sounds. His sacrifice helped me get the information to the Council, and ended up making Shepard a Spectre and stopping Saren and Benezia."

He nodded, grinning. "I heard about that. You've made quite the name for yourself. Kiala'Shaal was pretty impressed you were able to hang with a badass like the Butcher, and we all saw the media footage when they brought you out of that mountain on Noveria. I was worried you'd died."

She laughed softly. "No. But I have a cybernetic leg now, which my father wasn't too happy about."

Dost laughed also. "I bet." He peered at her suit and reik. "Why are you wearing Alliance colors, trimmed in Zorah purple?"

She exhaled. "I'm now Lieutenant Commander Tali'Zorah nar Kazan, M6 Chief Engineer. I was given a class II citizenship for helping fight Saren and Benezia, and I took a commission to stick with Shepard when she got her promotion."

Dost's jaw dropped. "Holy shit. _Everybody _was scrambling to try to get a spot in her taskforce, even though they kept what it's doing hush-hush. You must be pretty damned good to get that kind of placement. And to commission a quarian as an LTC...wow." He looked extremely impressed.

Tali ducked her head. "Shepard didn't have the slot open for competition, she told the people in charge of finding officers that I was going to be her Chief Engineer and that was that." She looked back up. "Given how your people do engineering, I'm starting to wonder if that was a wise choice or not."

Dost folded his arms. "Hard to say, ma'am. You'll find service in the Blue can be frustrating at times, mostly because there's never enough money or equipment to go around, and yet you're tasked with important jobs you can't afford to fail. Corners get cut, supply officers go through back channels, and security lieutenants end up moonlighting as contacts for the Shadow Broker." He scratched his chin. "Still, quarian to human is a big culture shock, or at least it was for Kiala'Shaal. She's had time to adjust, but at first it was very touch and go."

Tali nodded. "I ... I actually called hoping I could speak with her about a ... well." She ducked her head and then forced herself past her shy nervousness. "About a relationship I am in, with a human man. Or want to be in."

Dost gave her a long look, then sighed. "I knew I was good looking, but I didn't really think one exposure to me would make you go off and start sleeping with human guys. I told you I had that effect on all the quarian girls."

She stared at him for a long second before bursting into laughter. "Bosh'tet!"

He laughed, and rolled his shoulders. "Yeah, I can try to get her to talk to you. Maybe now that you're wearing the Blues she'll be more open to the idea, or at least less 'claw your air-hoses off'. Stay put."

The screen was empty for almost two minutes, displaying the plain walls of what was clearly Dost's apartment. A rather old looking and beaten couch, with a quarian style knitted cover, loomed on the left side, while a hanging done in the quarian style of Caleston City's skyline dominated the far wall.

A slender quarian female in a black and red reik with a black, shiny environment suit sat down in front of the comm pickup. Her mask was smoked black instead of the normal purple of the Flotilla, giving her glowing eyes a dimmed, sad appearance. Her posture was stiff, angry, and sullen, her voice a lilting contralto full of the accent of the Shellen liveship families.

"So, now the princess is a heroine, the darling of the day. A proper Kilmest'a. I'm rather shocked to hear you joined the Alliance instead of running home to daddy. Jason dragged me in here to talk to you, but I don't see why I should bother."

Tali bit her lip. "Kiala'Shaal,I am coming to you as an eal'xaub, seeking your knowledge and advice. It would be an honor of service to the Zorah Clan if you were to assist me, one I swear on my family honor and rights."

Kiala hissed, in a mix of amusement and confusion. A eal'xaub was the quarian term for 'honored adviser' or 'teacher', usually a trusted family retainer that provided reliable and confidential advice on dangerous or secretive topics. To declare her doing so an honor of service on behalf of the Zorah was to offer her a way out of exile, for Tali to pledge her own name to attempt to repay a debt that could only be fulfilled by the entire Clan.

"Arrogant tuho, why should I help you? What could you even want from a broken exile like me anyway?

Tali gave a tired sigh. "Because there is no one else who can help me. I need advice."

Kiala'Shaal snorted. "I advise you to leave me alone, princess. The Flotilla has washed their hands of me, and I of them. You don't even understand why I am exiled, and you promise to aid me."

Tali shook her head. "I know why they exiled you. I didn't have anything to do with why you were exiled. You did. Your clan did. Your people went to try and steal from the Flotilla to work for a murderous criminal, and when you were caught used violence."

Kiala'Shaal glared at her. "You're an ignorant foolish child. The Rebellion was necessary. The quarian people were dying by pieces every year, with fewer medicines, less ships, more sickness, more deaths, fewer births. It was either work for those who tolerated us or continue to live off scraps and begging until we died out. We gambled and we lost. Only _one _ship opened fire, but all of us were exiled, with nothing to our names. They threw out six hundred of us and five hundred and eleven died in the first month, and your father was the top of the list of those who'd suggested we all be executed."

Tali shook her head. "You were _wrong. _The quarians are now on the Council, and we will have a place to live, and we will grow stronger and recover. Because we didn't give up and just decide it was better to become criminals." She narrowed her eyes. "I let you yell at me last time, because I _didn't_ know. I'm not the same stupid little girl. I need your help, and I'm willing to risk my neck and name for it, because I can't trust anyone else with it... and because what you did was in it's own way for the quarian people, not against them. No one deserves exile for trying to do what is right."

Kiala stared at her for long seconds, her voice wary but somewhat less hostile. "I could just say no. I don't owe you anything. Why should I help you when I am happy with life as it is?"

Tali looked away. "I don't have a choice. For more than one reason, you are the only person I can ask. You can refuse to help me just to spite me, but I haven't done anything to deserve that. Maybe you hate my father. Hate him, but don't punish me for that, or you're not any better than the Conclave was in exiling you."

Kiala snorted at that, but then sighed. "I expected some kind of threat if I didn't cooperate."

Tali sighed. "I'm not asking you to be my friend, or that I have some right to demand help. I'm saying I need your help, and I'll do what I can to help you if you are willing to do the same. I respect Lieutenant Dost too much to hurt you, but I _will_ make sure you never, ever return to the Fleet and that no quarian speaks with you again if you refuse to help me simply because of what the Conclave did to you." She said this last in the hardest tone she could.

Kiala'Shaal's shoulders slipped back, a sign of wary surprise. "You … bah. That is no hrarxal." But there was a note in her voice and Tali smiled when she heard it.

"Ha. Even in exile, I expect your relatives still call you, still try to keep in touch. That quarians on Pilgrimage put up with you just to have someone they can trust. You value that contact, Kiala'Shaal. I know because I've been cut off from my people for over a year now. The only time I get to see my father is when I've been nearly killed and am recovering in some hospital. Cutting you off from the Flotilla is more of a threat to you than some stupid attempt at violence."

Kiala'Shaal's eyes narrowed, and she gave a small toss of her head. "You aren't the timid little v'tha cowering in my apartment from last year."

Tali's voice was very deadpan. "I've had a hard fucking month."

Kiala surprised her with a short laugh, then folded her arms. "Let's hear what you want me to _advise _you on, princess, before I agree to anything. The fact that you aren't running home and are instead wearing human colors means you aren't completely full of the arrogance of your father, but I want details about your request before anything else."

Tali nodded, and folded her hands together. "I want … I mean. I am in love with a human." She rushed the words out, then cringed. Biting her lip, she continued to speak. "I'm not sure how to proceed, or what to do. How to reach him or get out of my suit to be with him. You live with Lieutenant Dost. You have lived with humans for a while now. You ... you can tell me what to do."

She hated how weak and desperate she sounded, but she didn't feel like she had any other choices. Relying on the extranet for information would be criminally stupid. Just talking with Jeff had not really gotten her anywhere because she didn't know how to safely be with him outside of her suit, but she couldn't really say they had a relationship if she couldn't even _kiss _him.

Ahern's brutal story, her aunt's teasing, the isolation and frustration of the refit – she felt like if she didn't have something to cling to she would implode. And she didn't know how to take the first step.

Kiala was silent for a whole minute before speaking, her voice tinged with something like disbelief. "You, the scion of the oldest, highest family in the entire Flotilla, daughter of the High Admiral, who could probably have any male in the entire race by merely whispering a few words and finding a clean room...want to …"

The quarian woman suddenly convulsed with hard laughter, throwing her head back and slapping her hands on her knees in mirth. Tali stared at her, mortified and angry, as Kiala'Shaal took a good ten seconds to stop laughing and only snicker, shoulders shaking.

"Keelah, that is the most hilarious thing I have ever heard. Your father – "

Tali snapped. "My father loves me, but he can't protect me forever. It's my life, and I can't live it the way he lived his, because he's miserable. I'm not going to make myself miserable just so he can not feel bad about the way he raised me." She shook. "Jeff … he said...I was beautiful."

Kiala'Shaal's laughter trailed off, and she tilted her head. "So did Jason, when he first saw me. Most humans...don't feel that way. The claws. The jaw and teeth. The lack of ears, the eyes." She shook her head. "Why are you doing this? Love? Rebellion against your father? Or just a need to get your birth wound plowed?"

Tali cringed at the dirty overtones of the last, but squared her shoulders. "I can't answer that except to say nothing else feels right. The males of the Flotilla just want me for my name, not me. The average quarian won't ever see me, just my father's shadow and our family's influence. I go back home, and I'll be locked into the safest position I can be, married to some bosh'tet with the proper connections so Father can have his way in the Conclave more often, and expected to turn out the next generation of Zorahs." She shook her head.

"Jeff...makes me feel like I am wanted. Like I am needed. And he has no one else but me. No one to pick him up, no one to cheer him on. He suffers from a human disorder of fragile bones, and until I came along these humans just let him suffer. I can call it love, but I won't know for sure until it is more than me saying words I can't back up."

She sighed, and twisted her hands. "I can't do this by myself. You know how ... to live with a human."

Kiala gave an inelegant grunt. "I'll help you do this, just to see the look on your father's face when he finds out, and to hear the screaming of the Lesser Families when they realize you won't be dirtying a clean room with their stupid thuglet sons." She folded her arms again, eyes narrowed.

"You are going to be sicker than you ever thought possible, girl. Vomiting, bleeding from your birth wound, coughing up blood, and swelling until you feel like a sathu sausage. You are going to hurt the first time you enter into vhgras, because humans and quarians don't quite line up the right way. You are going to go through a lot of hassle with immunosupressants, herbs, and linking sickness, and damn near bankrupt yourself on antibiotics and allergen nanodrugs."

Tali closed her eyes, thinking about it. Then she shrugged. "Is it worth it?"

Kiala'Shaal snorted. "Did you not see my bahnt? Dost makes most of the males in the Fleet look like boys." Her voice took on an almost dreamy note, then hardened. "But we are not talking of me. Whether or not it's worth is more dependent on what you put into it. Humans can't feel the bonding. They don't experience the soul calling. Your hormones won't react to his in the same way, they will keep imploring you to bring him closer and you can't. There will always be an element of .. longing, no matter how often you make love or cling to his body. "

She sighed. "Fleet and Flotilla is very accurate when it comes to the frustrations and eventual fanatical need of Sarar vas Lepin in her relationship to Hierax Mehkuri."

Tali swallowed. Quarians tended to bond tightly to their lifemates, with certain pheromones kicking off reactions in the other partner. These often ended up ensuring lifemates were just that, mates for life, and the word 'divorce' wasn't something quarians could grasp. But if the bonds were not completed, her body would keep trying to react as if she was seeking a mate.

She shivered. "How do you get by it?"

Kiala shrugged. "Black market injections of distilled pheromones. I don't plan to ever go back to the Flotilla..but your help in clearing my name would help me with access to quarian doctors. The black market versions aren't without side effects, but I can't get anything else."

Tali swallowed again. "If...if I get you the money, and access to the doctors on the Flotilla, can you get me .. what I need? The herbs, drugs...injections...and .. things?"

Kiala sighed and her voice was sour, but at least shorn of the vicious hate it had held earlier. "Against my better judgment, I feel for you. I've been where you are, and … yeah. Fine. I'll help you. Get you the medicines. You can pay for mine too, since I'm not exactly rich. I'll … give you the advice you need, but only as long as you listen and don't get mouthy."

Tali clasped her hands together tightly. "Thank you. Thank you..."

Kiala snorted. "Before you do anything else, you need a clean room and to get used to taking off your suit without having a panic attack. Start doing that now, don't wait, or you will freeze up the second your body stocking comes off. I did."

Tali bit her lip and listened, determined to make this work.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Kilmest'a: <strong> hero or heroine, used in a context of suggesting the title given is perhaps not deserved. Similar to 'hero of the hour'. _

_**tuho: **bitch, roughly._

_**hrarxal: **Blood - feud or death threat. Usually very serious. _

_**v'tha: **small dextro herbivorous animal commonly found among quarian liveships, very weak, frightened and shy. They aid in keeping the ecology of the liveship interior in balance. _

_**birth wound: **quarian term for vaginal orifice. Less offensive than cunt, but not clinical. _

_**vhgras: **deep sexual penetration. Quarian bodies have two vaginal chambers, the second only reached when sex is intended to cause pregnancy rather than merely hormonal balance. _

_**bahnt: **somewhat risque term for lover, with sexual connotations of satisfaction_


	12. Chapter 12 : Cleverness

_**A/N:** Delays due to personal issues. For a certain scene with extended laughter, imagine the Joker 'thirty seconds of laughter' clip.  
><em>

_Also, I need good setups for Lieutenant Cole to use the line "Please! Don't shake the lightbulb."_

_As always, if you have questions about some of what is referenced here, leave a review or PM and I will answer as fast as I can. :)_

_UPDATE : 10-22-14 - got Ylana and Yvael confused, the second time the undead have struck. Fixed. _

* * *

><p><em>'Victory and valor are not always nestmates. Duty is often sacrificing glory for goals.'<br>_

_– _Saren Arterius , 'Dying for the Cause'__

* * *

><p>The completion of the refits and training meant that the exhausted crew of Battle group Chiron could finally rest. Ahern's trainers had ruthlessly drilled the Kazan and the refitted and rebuilt destroyers and frigates of Battle group Chiron for three solid weeks, fifteen hours a day. The drills had covered various emergencies, likely combat damage and various system failures. By the time they were done, Shepard was very pleased with their reaction times and hard work.<p>

The marines of the battlegroup had also been put through the ringer, and she had literally cackled with glee as Ahern gave her a report on their readiness.

"You have a good team of ass-kickers. I've sorted out Lieutenant Cole's problems as best I could, and I'm confident that your main fire-team is solid. The other marines are at least passable, probably at least as good the marines you had on the Normandy. Take my advice and drill your men often, Shepard, and they won't let you down."

She had shown up Friday afternoon, to watch the final exercises of the Kazan's own marines. Shepard watched with a smile of pride as Lieutenant Cole's squads soundly defeated a set of squads from the Pinnacle Training Command. Cole had taken to the hard training with frightening devotion, pulling longer hours than his NCO's and demonstrating more than a little of his father's endless energy and talent for morale-boosting speeches.

After they broke off from training, Shepard walked down to congratulate him and his men. "You all did a good job, Marines. You've done yourselves – and me – proud. Even the Admiral was impressed with your performance, and that old bastard is hard to impress. But I want you all to keep on the up-hop, because with my luck who knows what we'll run into."

Cole nodded, standing at parade rest. "We'll be ready ma'am. Any ideas exactly what our next assignment will be?"

Shepard shrugged. "Only a rough outline – final briefing will be at Arcturus. But from what little I know, we'll be sent to check out some pirate activity along the edge of the Traverse. The Navy sent a squadron to sniff around, but they didn't have Marine support and came back empty handed – and then another world got hit, so now people are pissed and we get to clean it up. It's probably batarians, so be ready."

Cole snorted. "Roger that, ma'am." He turned to face the marine squads, putting his hands on his hips. "You hear that, apes? Once again, it is our job to finish what the flyboys started. When we leave this big happy station and go off into the edge of space, we'll be fighting batarian bastards on solid ground. And when we meet the enemy, we will rip their skulls from their spines, and toss 'em away, laughing! Am I right, Marines?"

The marines hooted in laughter, and Shepard grinned. "Never change, Lieutenant. For now, hustle your boys and girls back to the ship for gear inspection, then cut yourselves leave for the rest of the day and the weekend."

Cole saluted sharply, then turned to his marines. "You heard the lady! Move like you've got a purpose." The marines stepped off sharply, leaving Shepard behind, and she headed over to the edge of the refit docks to gaze out at her newly repaired battle group.

The destroyers were fairly recent, only a few years old, and much of the refit had been repairing them back to battle spec from the beating they got at Terra Nova. Despite her wrangling with BuShips, she wasn't able to have their weapons overhauled, but Colms had been smartly resourceful in altering up the weapons even without new parts. Their missile systems had been expanded with clever sliding racks that extended from the cargo bays, and Colms had worked with Tali and Liara to create swarms of stealthed targeting drones to aid in missile and torpedo locks.

Her frigates,on the other hand, had been mostly torn apart and rebuilt from the bottom up. Two were now Normandy-style stealth frigates, loaded with a single Kyle-class torpedo and slightly stronger weapons. The armor was lighter to make room for modern cooling , ECM and electronic systems, but that also meant the ships were lighter and more maneuverable.

The rest of the frigates were upgraded to heavy missile frigates, loaded with rapid-fire missile banks and extra GARDIAN arrays to aid in knocking down enemy missile salvos. One of them also had fancy asari sensors, although Shepard had skimmed over the boring technical details – all she knew about it is the asari engineering staff had pissed Tali off something fierce, enough so that Liara had gone down and indicated her displeasure at the antics of the asari engineers, going so far as to suggest perhaps she should inform Clan Steelshape that their engineers had offended a member of the Thirty. The asari engineers ended up babbling horrified apologies to Liara and then to Tali at Liara's insistence.

_Heh, she's really getting into my bitchy streak. _

She turned away from the docks, and tapped her omni, checking in on the status of the battlegroup. She had to meet with the command team in an hour or so, to finalize last minute details on supplies, readiness and to meet her captains for the frigates and destroyers, along with making sure the lead captains were satisfied they were ready to move out. Once that was done she had the night off, before having to head into the main hub in the morning to get her ass beat by Ahern a final time.

After that, the last week would supposedly be spent in non-physical training – mostly damage control and repair drills for the crew, and final assessments from Ahern. That was going to be mostly spent resting and having the medics get strained tendons, pulled joints and torn muscles back up to snuff. She still didn't know if Ahern had more training for her in that final week – she hoped not, given how bruised up she already felt.

She had orders to take BG Chiron back to Arcturus for two weeks of leave before setting out to investigate the pirate activity she'd mentioned to Cole. The newly refitted ships had to be given a formal inspection by BuNavSafe, the safety and certification specialists, and new security software had to be on-loaded. Hopefully, some of the things she'd tasked Lieutenant Dallas to get would also be there.

There was also the little matter of the wedding. Anderson had dropped that news on her earlier in the day, and she was more than a bit nervous and worried about how it would all play out. Anderson was still pulling together details and arrangements with the help of Liara's father, but had asked her to talk to Jiong about a neutral, private location on Arcturus to hold the ceremony.

She was about to head off to find her Commissar and ask him that when omni chimed, displaying the gold framing and sigil indicating a high priority call from the Citadel Council.

"Shit."

She hastily tapped out a reply, saying she'd be in communication with them in ten minutes, and then called up an aircar.

She took seven minutes to get back to the Kazan, and got to her stateroom and it's secure comm suite as quickly as she could. She straightened her uniform, then hastily ran her fingers through her messy hair before sighing and hitting the comm-link controls.

The blue-tinted images the Council appeared on the gray disk set into the floor, the faces of Valern, Sparatus and Tevos familiar and in their 'frowny neutral' expressions as normal. Seeing Udina and a small quarian male in a robe over his environmental suit brought a smile to her face. "I am very sorry for the delay, Councilors... I was in training. This link is secure."

Sparatus flicked an mandible, his voice actually approving. He wore a long black robe with a turian honor sash today, and his voice was actually calm. "No need to apologize for drilling your soldiers, Spectre. That you still take the time to see to such things personally is praiseworthy."

_Did he just … complement me? Must be drunk._

Shepard said nothing but folded her arms behind her, and the turian went back to his usual grumpy glare. Tevos traded a glance with Valern, and more interestingly with Udina, before she spoke, dressed in a mix of plain white silk with some kind of shawl as usual, her voice a touch distant and cool.

_Probably still pissed at me for calling her out on that shit she pulled with Telanya. _

"Shepard, we have a rather cryptic situation developing that may require your services. We have investigated the turian colony at Lenal that you discovered was overrun. A further inspection of the site, with Officer Vakarian taking the lead, has uncovered strange linkages to other involved parties. It appears there is a disturbing intersection between the activities of one Doctor Saleon, a salarian criminal engaged in nefarious organ trafficking, and the events on Lenal."

Udina spoke next. "Shepard, they found _salarian_ Thorian thralls aboard Saleon's ship. The colonists on Feros were primarily Penal Legion failures, and while there was one salarian believed to be at Feros there were not twenty five. We are unsure of where these particular thralls originated from, which means a third Thorian could be active."

Sparatus made a 'throw away' gesture with his hands and grunted. "Vakarian also found an indoctrinated turian on Saleon's ship, one from Lenal, as well as strange batarian slave brands using a script and symbols similar to the images you described seeing on Virmire when you … talked … to Nazara."

The turian put his arms behind his back, voice stern. "C-SEC's Financial Analysis teams and a Spectre are already investigating the money trail, but it appears some of Benezia's subordinates and possibly some of Saren's followers are still active. The tie to the Batarian Hegemony is especially troubling, given their lack of meaningful communication from the Emperor in recent months."

Valern folded his arms, robed as usual, lights gleaming off his STG bracers. "We have no hard proof of batarian involvement, of course, but the implications are … disturbing. In light of this, we wish you to investigate an area where Saren was very active prior to the Benezia Incident, in the edges of the Traverse near or within the Xalax Cluster. We have fragmentary data indicating some of Saren and Benezia's followers may have fallen back to this location, and financial transactions linking both Okeer and Saleon to one Matron Ylana Anora of Moondance."

Shepard nodded. "Liara recognized that name, Okeer said it on the memory chip we found. She said that this Ylana was one of her mother's advisers."

Tevos spoke again, nodding. "That is correct. Ylana was also Benezia's acolyte in the Art for centuries, and the one who handled most of her financial planning. According to Rana Thanoptis, Ylana was kept as far from Nazara as possible to minimize her level of indoctrination, but it is likely all the same she was affected. While no where near as dangerous as Benezia herself – she had no commando training and was not a full priestess – she is liable to be dangerous nonetheless, especially if she had any remaining funds of Benezia's or the resources of even a fragment of the Triune."

Shepard nodded again. "Operating out in the Traverse will be a little tricky with a whole battlegroup, Councilors, especially if I'm trying to hunt down one system out of a cluster. I don't exactly have the Normandy to be sneaky in, and while I have a stealth frigate it's more of a hack job than a polished final product."

The quarian spoke for the first time. "I have never worked with you, Spectre. I am Thin'Koris vas Seya, the quarian councilor. Our own ships, which are less likely to cause adverse reactions in the Traverse, have attempted to scout the systems in the area, but are unsure which system or planet Ylana may be hiding on. We estimate it would take us another fifteen days or so to pin down all the transmission locations and finalize her actual location."

Udina spoke again. "Shepard, I've gotten word from your superiors that you will be in that area of the Traverse anyway, investigating pirate activity. Given the involvement of batarian pirates on some level with whatever this Ylana is up to, the missions from the Alliance and the Council should dovetail and provide a cover story. By the time you are done with training and what I understand will be a short leave period, the quarian fleet should have pinned down her location. You will strike there first with the full power of your Battlegroup. With any luck, if you move quickly, no one in the Traverse will know you are acting on such a target, and then you can move onto whatever other tasks the SA has assgined you."

Shepard nodded. "Understood. The idea that batarians and Okeer are involved with anything Saren and Benezia were into is … scary. Pointy face bastard is causing trouble even after he's dead. Did you find out any more about the Shadow Broker's involvement?"

Valern looked upset. "No. All attempts at communication have been curiously rebuffed. And even those outside the light of the law, such as the Shifter and P., have not been able to contact him. Until we can be sure the Shadow Broker was acting to derail Okeer's plans, not to profit from them, we recommend assuming he is possibly hostile."

Shepard nodded sourly at that. The Broker's so-called help hadn't amounted to very much beyond getting the Councilors to actually listen to her, but that didn't mean the spooky bastard wasn't dangerous. Based on what Wrex told her, she figured the Broker was doing the same thing the Council was – trying to learn more about the Reapers and their technology.

_Speaking of which …_

"What sort of planning has been done regarding the Reapers?"

Sparatus sighed. "Very little. It has only been a month, and all races are still busy repairing damage to our worlds and fleets. Given our estimates, we will certainly accelerate shipbuilding efforts by next year or maybe the year after that, but anything else will need to wait until we can at least get back on our feet from the damage already taken – not to mention we need time to analyze the wreckage of Nazara."

She didn't like that answer, but the dour looks on the faces of Tevos and even Udina told her she'd have to accept it. "As long as we don't loose sight of the danger."

Thin'Koris tilted his head, his glowing eyes narrowing. "We have not, but we must also remember that there are other dangers. Our primary focus now should be the elimination of the geth while they are weakened. They served as the vanguard of this Nazara thing, and my people feel that it is unwise to give them time to recover, now that everyone sees the evil and danger they represent."

Udina coughed. "The Systems Alliance is hesitant to act on many fronts, but the threat of the geth is one we will be addressing in the very near future. Their vile acts against our colonies are intolerable."

Tevos made a gesture of siari resolution. "That is a discussion for another day, and one Shepard can attend to at another time."

Shepard shrugged. "What about backup?"

Sparatus frowned, folding his arms. "I believe you have an entire battle-group at your disposal now, do you not? Surely that is enough backup to merely investigate and strike a small group of no doubt weak troublemakers. Given the condition of the Council Fleet at this time, I don't feel we can make any additional contributions."

Shepard was about to say something when Thin'Koris spoke. "We are also recovering, plus already taking part in this endeavor...but Admiral Rael'Zorah has stated that we can provide a few companies of the Migrant Fleet Marines in support if needed."

Valern gave a shrug. "We have provided the quarians with two STG units to support their intelligence gathering efforts. There is, I am afraid, little else we can do at this time. Much of the salarian fleet is at the Solus Docks in refit from the battle."

Udina gave a tired sigh. "I see very little has changed in terms of getting this Council to provide any sort of assistance..."

Tevos looked at Shepard a long time before speaking. "I believe you were quiet … direct in our last conversation about certain appropriate actions. I do not wish to have a state of antagonism between us. Therefore, the Asari Republic will be supporting your strike against Ylana. Spectre Tela Vasir, in her capacity as a member of the Hunter's Circle, and her strike cruiser, _Stormwind's Spirit, _will be accompanying you. Vasir is one of our best, and she will be traveling with a small unit of commandos and war priestesses."

Sparatus and Valern looked surprised, but there was little to be said. Most military Spectres retained their position in their own race's military, and Tevos was dispatching Tela Vasir as an asari asset, not a Council one.

Shepard smiled faintly at that. It was certainly better than nothing, and a force like Tevos was describing was actual real backup, not a handout. Maybe Tevos wasn't a complete idiot.

She noticed Sparatus scowling, and her smile faded slightly. The others hadn't changed much...

She had a brief image of Sparatus throwing up air quotes, and Udina braining him with a datapad, and had to smother a fresh smile. "Thank you for the support, Councilor Tevos. And I do understand the Council's limits in the aftermath of the attack by … Benezia. I will contact you when I am ready to set out. I have a few events at Arcturus to take care of first."

Udina coughed. "Yes, I have been informed. Do the words 'political shitstorm' mean anything to you, Shepard, or do you merely delight in running up my blood pressure?"

The other councilors all had looks of confusion on their faces, so Shepard didn't say much. "That is probably best discussed another time, sir."

Udina rolled his eyes. "Yes, it will be. We will be in contact, Major." The signal cut, displaying the new modified sigil of the Council , the stylized tower with the outlines of the four capital planets and a quarian liveship at it's base.

Shepard walked over to sit at her desk, lost in thought. She didn't know how the pieces tied together – indoctrinated turians, Okeer, krogan experiments, this Ylana bitch, batarian slavers, a salarian organ clone doctor, and salarian plant zombies – but it sounded bad.

She had figured that by killing Saren, Benezia and seeing Nazara destroyed, the threat was delayed. Not over. Maybe never over, if the Vision was correct, with a thousand black leaves falling out of the sky. But it would not happen tomorrow, or next year. They had time to prepare. That didn't mean that whatever Ylana was trying to pull couldn't end up being as bad as Benezia's plans.

She glanced at the chronometer on the wall, and decided to shower and eat before heading down to meet with her captains.

O-ATTWN-O

As with all staff meetings, Shepard strove to keep things simple, informal,and most of all brief. Several of the captains answering to her now had been flying ships when she was just a kid, and she did her best to make it clear she would listen to their concerns and advice when offered. The meeting room they met in was one of the base's larger rooms, rather than having them all slog over to the Kazan. It was comfortable and had a coffee machine, which was a nice touch.

God knew listening to hours of repair reviews, readiness evaluations, and status reports required coffee to keep her awake.

The three destroyer captains gave a lengthy and somewhat boring rundown on their ships. They were fully loaded and ready for battle, and their crews were confident in their state of repair and durability. The three destroyers would provide her flanking 'punch' when it came to a larger battle, holding the enemy in place so the big guns and heavy missile and torpedo salvos of the Kazan could crack the enemy hulls and defenses.

The frigate captains, on the other hand, were more concerned. Major changes had happened to their ships, and they felt a good shakedown run would be necessary to catalog issues for further attention. She told them to do limited shakedown ops over the next week, and to present a list of things that were showstoppers to her by no later than Wednesday.

She didn't really have a coherent use for the frigates yet. Her own experience in the Normandy convinced her that frigates could be nasty customers in a fight, but these frigates were no where near as nimble, powerful or cutting edge as the Normandy had been. She had a rough idea from her training with Ahern of how to deploy frigates as either pressure units or scouts, but the heavy missile frigates were better suited to holding position near her own cruiser, given their slower speed.

She and the captains hashed out simple responses for likely issues, and then moved on to their marine teams, fighters, and support units. All of those were also in order, and Shepard relaxed a little.

"Any other concerns, while you've all got my attention?"

The oldest of the frigate captains, Commander Kenneth Boermann, spoke up. "I have a concern, although one I'm not sure you'll appreciate. You've gone from commanding a single experimental frigate and a detachment to eight ships and four companies in a short amount of time. Many of us have more naval experience than you. How closely do you plan to provide command guidance on a naval or ground level, given that we're more experienced than you?"

Shepard smirked. Well, at least one of her captains had a spine, that was good to know. "Commander Boermann, there's two answers to that question. The first is simple – I'm in charge of the battlegroup and the Kazan. The reason you are all here is that I do not have the time to micromanage your ships or your marine groups. I expect you, your XO or your BDO to have the chops to manage your own marine commands, and that you know how to fight your ships better than I can. I never liked some REMF getting in my way and I doubt any of you want that, so most of the time my orders will be fleet level coordination."

She leaned forward, palms down on the table of the meeting room. "The other answer is more complex. How long have you been in service, Commander?"

Boermann frowned. "Eighteen years."

She smiled back at him. "I've been in just over nine years. I've been awarded the Star of Terra twice, the Medal of Valor four fucking times, and I've ended up being command advanced at every rank. I was appointed to this post by the President himself, with approval from Fleet Master Dragunov. I am _**better**_ than you. If I wasn't, you'd be sitting here instead of me. On the rare occasion I give you an order, I expect you to follow it promptly and without giving me any static."

She glanced around the room. Boermann looked taken aback, while the younger CO's looked a bit awed and Von Khar amused. She leaned back, smiling. "I understand your concerns. But I've been in command of a frigate for the past year in some of the craziest fights in space or on the ground you can imagine, and I'm not about to give reckless orders. Most of the orders will be coming from my XO, Commander Pressly, who has been in for a lot longer than I have."

She fixed her gaze on Boermann. "If you have concerns about my orders, given my lack of experience with heavy units or battalion level forces, I'm willing to listen and take any advice you may have. If you have concerns given my past actions and the number of marines I lost in battle, however, I strongly recommend getting over them. That won't happen again."

She glanced around a second time, smiling wider. "If that's all, we all have things to be about. Dismissed. Captain von Khar, stay a moment. I have a … concern of my noble rank to discuss with you."

Von Khar's graying eyebrows rose, but he stayed seated, waiting until the rest of the group had exited . His voice shifted from the usual drawl and plain language to the more refined tones and phrases of the Forms of Address. "I am at your disposal, Baroness. I must admit I did not expect you to engage your title for any reason in the near future, given your background."

Shepard smiled. She'd had some lessons with Jiong on handling the nobility, and while the formality that nobles used when talking about what Jiong called 'noble obligations' was stupid, it was also something she could memorize, unlike most forms of human communication.

She cleared her throat."That is to be expected, milord. I am hardly what one could expect to find in the ranks of the Noble Families of Earth." Her voice took on a rueful note. "I would also point out I have a title, but no lands, and that my status as a 'defender' is not an actual knighthood until the Court of Lords receives me and approves."

Captain von Khar nodded thoughtfully. "Salient points, milady. I assume you have some question as to proprieties or the like?"

Shepard laughed. "You could say that." She sighed. "I'm not familiar with any of this, and my commissar has done his best to train me. Given that it's only been a few weeks, I've only managed to make sure I have memorized the Forms of Address and the concept that random cursing is not acceptable. My worries are larger."

She exhaled. "I would like to ask your word, in that you will not repeat what I am about to say."

The captain leaned back. "You saved my ship from being flung into certain doom, milady. I give you my word freely."

Shepard folded her arms. "I am going to marry Liara T'Soni upon our return to Arcturus. I need to know how the Noble Families will react, milord."

Given the magnitude of the news, Shepard was surprised the older man's features didn't flicker. "I see. I can only presume, given the fact she is your subordinate officer aboard the Kazan, that the Commissariat has given you some … allowance for prohibited fraternization, and that the Admiralty is aware?"

Shepard nodded. "Our relationship was something that happened before Liara took a commission with the Alliance. And yes, both groups are fully aware. I'm not concerned about the media, or the asari reaction, or even that of the military. But the Noble Families are a blank slate to me. I was a Z2 restricted felon less than two months ago. It is going to be difficult to get any of them to acknowledge me."

Captain von Khar shifted in his chair. "I have a question that is both pertinent in topic but impertinent in audacity, milady. Is this a match made for love, or is this a political marriage for your own benefit?"

Shepard sighed. "Love is there, but … it was advised for me to marry her by the Commissariat, both to secure my position and to protect Liara from certain asari reactions to the treason of her mother." She paused. "If it was up to me, it wouldn't be a public thing. I love her, but the only reason I'm making this into a public event is for the protection it provides Liara."

He smiled. "Then at the very least I certainly approve. Too many matches are for love without any thought of the larger ramifications, and if you are doing this both out of your desire and your duty, not to mention protecting Lady Liara, then few can fault you for such."

Shepard smiled. "Thank you, milord. And the families?"

Captain von Khar nodded thoughtfully. "My family is one of the oldest of the Houses of the Second Rank, just out of sight of the Court of Lords itself. The Lord General of the _Solguard _is my brother, for example. I cannot say with any certainty how the High Lords of Sol will react. The Coleman family, for example, is split between those who adore the asari, and those who despise them. Certainly the Eldfell Family will support you, as will, I suppose, the Windsors."

He coughed. "Given your relationship with General von Grath, milady, I have no doubt the von Graths will stand in support, and many of the Houses of the Third Rank that you will stand among will support you for no other reason than solidarity. The noble families of Watson will likely approve, given their own liasons to asari of Lesser Houses."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers. "As long as you are quiet, do not move in any circles of nobility, and are careful to stay out of the public eye, few of the Noble Families will care. You will not be the first to take the hand of an asari noble, although you will be the first to do so with one ostensibly of the Thirty. Many will seek to approach you for gain in dealings with the asari."

She nodded. "This is still … overwhelming and weird to me. I'm glad to know I won't make any more enemies by doing this, though."

She stood, and he did so as well, shrugging. "As a senior member of your command, I can only wish you congratulations and happy returns of the day. As marquis, I would suggest that you remember the rule my father taught me when it came to interactions with our peers, milady – the less you are seen, the less likely you are to be plotted against."

She dismissed him and he left, as she wondered again how the fuck she'd gotten into this mess in the first place.

O-ATTWN-O

The Saturday 'free-for-all' sessions, where Ahern challenged Shepard and selections of her team, had never ceased to be hard. Shepard usually ran three of them every Saturday – one with Liara and Tali, one with Beta Squad, and one with Vega and the two DACT.

So far, she had not beaten the man even a single time. Ahern still wore a shitty Onyx suit of basic marine armor, a old omnitool, and used mostly just a pistol, grenades, and info-war programs. Her respect for the man rose immensely as the weeks rolled by, and his vitriol and cursing became slowly more friendly. He was deadly accurate, had reactions like a salarian on speed, and used every bit of his skill to hold his own no matter what she threw at him.

Ahern, like Rachael, fought using concepts and tactics which were unexpected and reactive. He'd survived things that frankly sounded like flat out suicide missions more than once because he refused to simply follow the existing tactics and created his own. He drilled her men on precision, on thinking on their feet, and on eschewing heroism for pragmatism.

As time went by, the Saturday sessions became less of a humiliating beating and more of a nearly impossible challenge. Every time she hit the dirt or shuddered as Ahern drove his omniblade an inch from her face, she swore she'd beat him the next time. She couldn't get angry, or he'd turn it against her. If she relied too much on any one aspect of her skills – biotics, guns, info-war – he would use it as an opening, or force her to overextend.

Still, she could see her progress. She'd prided herself on her snap-accuracy with a shotgun and her kanquess, but had let many of her other skills slip. Looking back over the past few years of her life, she saw where she'd let anger, despair or fear of losing those entrusted to her push her away from being a good soldier and more into being a wrecking ball.

With Liara tied to her, she couldn't afford to do such things. She had to stay alive, not risk death. She had to focus and lead a force totaling over fifteen hundred people, every one of which looked up to her with a firm belief that she was indestructible. She had to not only push herself to be a better soldier, but a better officer, a better leader, a better friend.

Part of that 'getting better' idea meant putting her foot up Ahern's ass, and she was going to do it today. She felt the past week had not only improved her skills a great deal, but both Liara and Tali. Together, they were going to take the old man down.

When morning came, Shepard and Liara had a quick breakfast in the wardroom of the Kazan before heading down to their usual meeting spot just outside the Pinnacle training grounds. The training area Ahern usually favored was a wide concrete training yard, a good hundred feet square, with a handful of low concrete barriers along it's edges and in the middle.

Shepard and Liara waited a few minutes before Tali showed up, muttering about something to do with lubricants. Shepard decided not to ask. They entered the training area proper, and Shepard frowned at the changes.

Rather than the clean square of concrete they were used to, the training field had been covered in … mess. New pillboxes and concrete barriers formed a maze of cover, trailing along the left side of the practice area. In the middle of the training area was a mass of construction debris, metallic panels from ship hulls, and stacks of scrap metal filled in gaps between bulky metallic storage crates. The right and bottom corner of the field was dominated by low walls of concrete, encircling the empty hulk of an older ALASKA-class shuttle The upper left of the field was dominated by what looked like pieces of a pre-fab building, four heavy walls on the ground floor with cutouts, and a narrow staircase leading up to a second floor with two walls and some sandbags.

There was usually no one watching these fights except a pair of medics. This time, though, to the right of the practice field, behind a glowing kinetic barrier field, stood a collection of admirals and several Commissars she didn't recognize. Behind them, and looking somewhat nervous, were Jiong and Susan.

Finally, off to the left side of the area, there was a MAKO medvac conversion vehicle, armor removed to allow for more internal space. Standing beside it were Dr. Sedanya and most of her medical squad along with several other medical personnel.

Shepard arched an eyebrow at all the changes. "Well, that's probably not good. We never have an audience to our ass beatings, or that many doctors."

Liara frowned slightly, glancing around. "Perhaps since this is the final attempt, he is attempting to pressure us by having watchers." She gave a small shrug.

Shepard spent several seconds looking around as well, still seeing no sign of Ahern, only the jumbled terrain of the training area. She narrowed her eyes before muttering to herself. "Helmets on, girls, the Grand High Bastard may be trying something."

Liara nodded, while Tali tapped her foot. "Sara, I always have my helmet on."

Shepard gave a small laugh, nodding. "Sorry. I'm just so happy after this I can relax and go soak in a damned hot tub or something when we get back to Arcturus that I'm babbling. That's … probably not a good sign,is it?" She carefully checked her weapons as the three of them advanced, eyes open for trouble.

As they reached the edge of the practice field, a black-armored form stepped out from behind one of the stacks of metal scrap. It was a suit of super-heavy Devastator armor, with glowing-bright omni-armor covering the chest, shins, shoulders, forearms and back.

Built in mini-missile launchers bulked on one arm, while the other was surmounted by an additional omnishield. The figure held a deadly looking matte-black Sabre rifle in one hand, and the belt was festooned with grenades. The armor was one of the most advanced in the SA lineup. It's edgy, angled shapes broke up radar returns, and the suit was specially designed to conceal body heat – even with special padding on the feet to hide the heat of footprints.

In short, it would be a bitch to take out the wearer.

Red haptic lighting, angular and jagged, set off the edges of the suit, and the figure tapped a control with it's left hand, the helmet sliding back and apart to reveal the face of Admiral Ahern.

"Welcome, ladies, to the final set of evaluations you will be doing with me. After five weeks, you have either learned what I have attempted to teach you … or you are mindless idiots that should be spaced via the nearest airlock. Since the three of you are no longer _completely_ incompetent, I'm assuming you have actually learned something, and thus, I will be coming at you today with more than a pistol and a set of Onyx armor."

He gestured around him to the set-pieces of the practice area. "As you can see, things have been changed up a bit. The purpose of this evolution is twofold. First of all, I will be assessing your progress in picking up on what you've been trained on in the past month. Secondly, given that Ms. Zorah and Dr. T'Soni don't actually possess a combat rating, this will serve as your 303-A1 qualification for basic A-Rating MCV. Since all A1 ratings tests are done with live fire, this test will also follow that. Try to aim for legs and not heads. Once we start, a force screen will prevent wild shots from going outside of the area."

He gestured to their equipment. "You are unlimited in your usage of equipment, with the following exceptions – no use of any form of toxic or environmentally dangerous attacks. You will be expected to demonstrate accuracy, combat tactics, teamwork, and precision."

Shepard nodded. "Yes, sir. Mission, op-for and level of exercise?"

Ahern smiled. "Your goal is fairly simple. In the pre-fab construction over there is a table with a datapad on it. The contents of the datapad simulate critical intelligence that must be obtained at all costs."

He pointed back at the shuttle. "The mission starts inside the shuttle hulk over there, simulating a real shuttle. You must get from the shuttle to the building, secure the data and get back to the shuttle. Once on board, you must remain 'alive' for at least fifteen seconds to simulate the shuttle powering up for an escape. If you get away with one of you still standing, you win. If all three of you go down, or the padd is destroyed by one of you, you lose."

"The only opposing force you will have in this simulation is me. This is a full level five exercise. That means there is the possibility, however slight, of serious injury, or even death. You can decline at any time."

He waited for the three of them to nod before continuing with a wintry smile, and gestured to the officers observing to one side. "If you succeed, then my report to the handful of REMF's supervising this fiasco will state that you are all excellent combatants, fully prepared to take down anything you might come across, and that I have full confidence in your abilities. Furthermore, I'll even stick my own name on the line saying I have no reservations about the situation with you and LTC T'Soni."

Shepard nodded. "And if we fail?"

Ahern's smile widened. "If you fail, then I will tell them that you three couldn't find your asses with both hands in your back pockets. There will be some questions you have to answer to the satisfaction of the Board of Naval Performance and the Commissariat about your fitness for this job. You can already fucking imagine what that entails, Shepard."

He tapped his collar, which reformed his helmet around his head, deforming his voice. "So don't fuck this up. I swear to God and the Pope that if you go out like that limp-wristed loser Delacor and his team did when I tested him, I will put my foot so far up your ass you'll need adult diapers for the rest of your goddamned life, Shepard."

She exhaled, remembering the lessons he'd drilled and beaten into her head, before nodding. "Understood, sir."

He lifted his Sabre. "Get to the shuttle. The exercise begins when the flare goes off, but the officer will be waiting for your signal to launch it." He tapped his omni and faded from view, and Shepard jerked her head to the shuttle.

As they ran, Shepard clicked into her private comm channel with Liara, tying Tali in. "Listen up, something stupid is going down since we're being observed, and we're going to end this with a bang to stop it. We have a single, hard target, the padd. We are going to have cross the entire field to get to it, so expect Ahern to start with trying to snipe us and flush us out of cover, and some kind of mines to cut off our approach."

She exhaled. "Liara, Tali, work together and combine your defenses to draw him right. I'll use a series of smoke grenades with charge to work left, but I expect him to counter that pretty quick."

She entered the shuttle, turning around to face them. "When he does, he'll have to come out of that building to stop me from getting too close. Liara, tie him up with your biotics, Tali, bracket his ass with as much confusion as you can, and lots of grenades. Don't let him stealth and circle. Move together towards the pre-fab while I try and circle to draw him out and away from the building."

She glanced outside, where an officer was prepping a signal flare, and he nodded, waiting for her to signal him.

She grimaced. "We can't beat him head up. We haven't so far and trying it now is what he'll expect. We'll have to be sneaky. He said we had to get the data, not the padd. When I draw him away from the building, Tali will go for the padd. Read it remotely, then fall back. Once you're secure, beam the data to my omni-tool. Liara will pull his attention off me. I'll do a couple of biotic charges to the shuttle while you two keep him off me. We win."

Liara and Tali both nodded. Shepard gestured to the officer with the flare, shouting as the signal flare went off. "Go!"

Liara took the lead, throwing out a weak singularity and anchoring two wide, but fairly flimsy, barrier fields to it. The blue ball dragged them along at just above head height as she ducked down behind narrow concrete walls, Tali following and putting up a recon drone that was protected by the floating barrier fields.

The barrier blocked a probing shot from long range, and Liara smiled at her biotic invention. The combination of a scouting drone and biotic protections meant Ahern couldn't take out the drone without clearly revealing his position. His armor made the IR and other sensor suites in their helmets and omni-tools useless, and the drone's specialized sensors were their only chance of picking him up before he got within what he liked to call 'beat down range'.

Shepard waited with her sniper drawn, waiting to see if he'd try to take out the drone with something more concrete than sniper fire. The drone, meanwhile, spun to acquire the source of the shot, flickering through infrared and radio emissions before catching a weak vibration return on Ahern near the pre-fab.

Tali hissed. "Target is near building, north side, moving west."

Shepard nodded, shipping her sniper and drawing her ODIN instead. She flashed into the kanquess, coming out of her charge behind a taller wall about halfway to the pre-fab, south and east of its location. She immediately pulled at her belt, dropping smoke grenades and doing another charge at an oblique angle to the right.

No sooner than she had, six homing grenades lanced out of the pre-fab to bounce towards her former position, each one going up in a mix of explosive, frags, and EMP bursts. Shepard tucked into cover behind a tall stack of armor panels and tapped her comm. "Tali, go." She shipped the ODIN again, redrawing her sniper rifle, and waited for an opening.

Tali did so, stopping to disarm a tech mine that blocked the right side approach to the pre-fab. She used her drone as a decoy, sending it higher, while creating two more and having them creep along the ground. She grinned as Ahern blasted the drone out of the air, pinpointing his location for her. "Liara, he's south of the prefab, near the big wall with a construction pillar leaning against it."

Liara popped up out of cover long enough to throw a strong pull at the wall Tali described. It buckled and collapsed, throwing up dust and ruining Ahern's cover. Liara ducked back down, but Shepard moved around to her right, trying to line up a shot with her sniper. She couldn't make out Ahern moving in the dust cloud, and edged out a bit more to get in range for a grenade through.

Shepard winced as a high-powered sniper shot smashed into her shields. The second shot detonated unexpectedly, sending her rolling to find new cover and hissing in pain as burning fragments from the round riddled her shoulder.

Liara caught sight of the form of Ahern, dashing through cover, and focused. A series of white-limned blobs appeared in his path, and he crashed into several of the stasis bubbles. The armor strained and whined before he tore himself free, but that allowed Liara to hammer him with a blast of warpfire strong enough to cook the back of his armor and blast away two of the omni-fields protecting him.

Ahern fired off mini-missiles from his wrist, hammering Liara's barrier and forcing her back into heavier cover. She withdrew, triggering her own drones to fly up and spray Ahern's location with burst fire. As expected, the admiral was too tucked into cover for him to be affected, but that wasn't the goal anyway.

Tali targeted the area he was in with several thrown EMP grenades, before having one of her two concealed drones come up high and fire off a flight of mini-missiles – she'd coded them back in just the day before, to throw Ahern off. The admiral's shields flickered and died, and he grunted as he managed to dive away from the blast, being peppered by shots from Liara's pistol as he did so, and was forced backwards and away from the pre-fab further by the mini-missiles.

Shepard used the confusion of the explosions to charge ahead again, coming up a good thirty feet short of the pre-fab building in an elevated section of tumbled beams and concrete slabs. She pulled out her sniper rifle and began hunting for a shot.

She caught a flash of movement and fired, cursing as the image shattered into fractal static – a decoy. Knowing what was likely to happen, she hustled backwards from her shooting position, trying to find new cover and get down from the elevated area she was on. But even as she was moving, a handful of grenades tumbled to a halt below her, exploding violently and sending her crashing down as the unstable rubble she stood on shifted.

A sniper shot rang out a moment later, blasting through her barrier but missing her by inches, and she rolled flat on the ground before dropping the sniper and pulling grenades of her own. She'd not had a lot of time to fiddle with new weapons ideas with all the work she had been doing, but Ahern's training had given her one good idea, and the grenades she threw at him were it's execution. They bounced and exploded with a muted bang, splashing omnigel in long thin strands that rapidly hardened, turning the gap between the prefab and surrounding cover into a mess of iron-hard strands of gel as thick as a finger.

An omnitool lit up, and she grinned as Ahern cut himself free while he cursed loudly. Wasting no time, she washed burning warpfire over a heavy steel I-beam, and hurled it all at him with her strongest throw, followed by a charge to flanking cover.

As she expected, he tore free and dove away from the I-beam, coming up in front of her just as she came out of charge and opened fire on him with her ODIN. He jerked back, shields splintering, but his heavy omni-reinforced armor took the blast. Spinning with the force of the blow, he brought up his hand and jets of ice-cold omnigel splashed over her legs, similar to her own use of omni-gel, trying to freeze her in place.

She found herself stuck but didn't panic, instead smoothly launching her biotics at the ground and flinging herself away. She landed roughly, skidding into a pile of metal sheeting, and winced as bursts from his Sabre tore into the area around her. This was followed by bursts of mini-missiles, sending shards of debris crashing into her painfully.

She couldn't let up, though, and decided on a new trick. Ahern had ducked back towards the prefab, and she decided he couldn't stop what he couldn't see. She'd just managed to perfect a new biotic ability and she reached out with it, biting her lip to focus on maintaining control.

As more rounds poured into her location, one striking her shoulder armor and jolting her, she used a smear invocation on the scattered rubble around her, breaking it into smaller, easier to hurl pieces. With a yell she lashed out with a shockwave, picking it all up and breaking it into smaller tumbling fragments, then used push to spray it in a long cone towards where she thought Ahern was.

She made a big flare of biotic energy by blowing out her barrier, as if she'd charged, and then ducked back down right where she was, picking up her sniper again. The dust and mess from her debris attack concealed her, and sure enough Ahern rolled free of the mess, having dropped an omni-barrier to block some of it and scanning around to her right for where she would have charged to.

She sighted in on his knee, knowing that was one of the thinner spots on a set of Devastator armor, and fired. The shot blew through his shields and splintered against his armor, catching him by surprise. Shepard cursed as his reaction even as he went down was to fling grenades at her location.

She tried rolling away as he had, but was not able to get clear before they blew up around her, blasting her into a rag-doll tumble across the area and into a heap on the ground. She staggered to her feet, triggering her omni-shield and trying to get to cover, when more Sabre fire punched into her. The shield blocked a couple of shots before it sparked and died, and his fifth shot clipped her side and punched through.

She snarled and managed to get off a weak shockwave, deliberately slowing it's usual speed so it didn't really knock him back so much as simply hold him in place for a moment. He shook his head, and sighted in on her with his Sabre. Even as he did that, however, a mixed barrage of shockwaves and spinning singularities washed over him from an elevated angle, detonating the remains of Shepard's shockwave, sending the admiral himself sprawling and his rifle flying.

Anchored to a high beam of construction material by her biotics, a wall invocation firmly in front of her, Liara shoved a titanic lift at the prone Ahern, tearing the concrete apart with the force of it and sending him skittering back away from the pre-fab. She followed it with a second throw, but there was no blast of biotic energy from his location, and he'd ducked out of sight.

Tali's voice muttered quietly in Shepard's ear. "Shepard, I'm hacking the padd now. The bosh'tet krinai encrypted it. Breaking it will take some time. I need thirty seconds."

Liara's voice was tense as she dropped from her wide-open position to cover. "Hurry, Tali. Shepard is hurt, and the Admiral must have dropped a pulse suppression grenade at his feet, since there was no biotic explosion after my second throw."

Shepard gritted her teeth and forced her legs to respond, lunging into cover behind a nearby barricade. She was missing her sniper rifle, and thus pulled out her Sunfire pistol. "Tali, make sure you're dug in. Liara, back her up. I'll keep him drawn."

With that she glanced around, trying to find Ahern. "Tali...slave that scout drone of yours to me."

A beep from her omnitool followed a second later, and she glanced at the scan results. Ahern had kicked off the thermal cooling system on his suit, further eliminating his heat signature, and the motion tracker showed nothing.

The bastard was cloaked, then, going for a sniper shot. "Stay low-"

A crack lanced out, and Liara fell back, cradling her arm, her defensive barrier dying and a splash of purple blood leaking from her elbow. She reacted with haste, hurling out a singularity at the location, followed by a string of rapid shots from her pistol.

Ahern flashed out of his position, kicking off of a nearby wall about fifteen feet west of the pre-fab to literally fling himself through the air. The singularity tugged at him but couldn't slow him long enough to make him vulnerable. The shots Liara fired all missed badly, and he came down in a roll, popping up and flinging two disc grenades at Liara.

Shepard opened fire with the Sunfire, hammering as many shots at Ahern as she could, but the older man was too fast and her shots missed just as badly as Liara's had, seeming to curve off towards the fading singularity to smash holes into the side of the pre-fab.

Ahern juked left as the grenades he'd thrown at Liara exploded, and even from her distance Shepard felt the faint pins-and-needles effect of a biotic pulse dissipator. She fired twice more, trying to force him back from Liara, even as she circled around, moving to both flank him and place herself a bit closer to the shuttle. Ahern didn't rise to the bait, moving towards where Tali was tucked away, still hacking, even as he kept up the fire on Liara.

Tali's voice hissed as she cursed over the comm. "Need more time!"

Liara managed to crawl back into cover as Ahern riddled her position with burst fire from his Saber, several shots punching through her armor. She was clearly still affected by the pulse suppression grenade. But she was still in the fight, gamely pulling out her custom pistol and shifting it to shotgun mode, lifting it with her unhurt arm and burst firing back at Ahern as she tried to tuck herself as tightly as possible against her cover.

Her aim with only one arm was terrible but flecks of burning metal pinged and ricocheted around Ahern. He staggered with one hit, stumbling as one of the glowing omni-panels of his armor flickered and went dark. A second blast blew out the omni-armor on his left shin, and he ducked past a third, rushing forward and in cover to close the distance on Liara.

Liara's last shot missed, and Ahern slapped the shotgun-pistol out of her hand. Shepard gritted her teeth as Liara desperately tried to fend off the larger Ahern in close quarters combat. Her first couple moves were good, ducking under a spin kick and turning a knife-hand strike against him, but her throw failed when Ahern simply overpowered her. Still without her biotics, she was helpless as he wrenched her wounded arm, then disarmed her and his omnitool flicked out, scoring her armor across the chest and 'killing' her.

Shepard wanted to charge in and crush the admiral for hurting Liara – the bastard didn't have to twist her arm like that – but she knew he was waiting for that. Instead she smiled when Tali cheered. "Done. Transmitting. I'll draw him towards me, Shepard. You get ready."

Shepard sighed and clicked, tucking herself further out of sight and tightening her barrier, kneeling to avoid her shadow showing up. Her omnitool displayed the progress of the file transfer, even as Tali set off a series of tech mines she'd planted, spraying smoke and ECM chaff into the air.

Ahern shook his head as if disgusted and knelt, unshipping his sniper rifle and swinging around. He was tucked into the same good cover Liara had fallen back to, with no real way to get close except a direct charge. Shepard instead simply watched her omni as the transmission proceeded, even as Tali began erecting her own defenses. When it finished, she clicked her comm.

"Go for it, Tali. Charging in five." She readied her smoke grenades as well as her last omni-goop grenade, and loaded up a sensor-jammer data spike into her omnitool.

Tali moved, rolling free of cover and bringing up her oversized omnishield. Ahern tried to snipe at her, but the shield blocked his shots. Tali anchored herself against a low concrete wall and began hammering Ahern's position with submachine gun fire. He responded with careful counter fire, his first shot blasting through the low cover to nearly blow a hole in Tali's foot, his second sparking off her weapon, sending it spinning out of her hands.

Tali tapped her omni and her the last of her drones popped up out of cover, barely six feet from Ahern. It had been instructed to stay almost on the ground and to home in on any sensor hits. Now it erupted in sheets of plasma, catching the man squarely, even as Tali leapt over the cover and began opening fire with her shotgun.

Ahern rolled back, but Tali closed on him relentlessly. She'd hooked up over two dozen hack-scripts to one single command and triggered them all, hacking Ahern's armor, weapon, and onboard computer controlling the omni-armor of the Devastator. The heavy form of the Sabre rifle detonated, sending him stumbling back.

Shepard grinned as she could hear him cursing and watched him fall back, his Sabre ruined and having to use his pistol.

With him so heavily distracted, she knew it was time. Shepard charged towards the shuttle, coming out of it to drop smoke and trigger her sensor jammer before rolling into the shuttle itself and skidding to a halt. An officer stood within, frowning.

"You don't have the padd."

Shepard triggered her omni. "We have all the data that was on the padd."

The officer laughed. "Fifteen seconds until you have 'escaped' then.

Ahern had noticed the smoke near the shuttle, but the combination of Tali's hacks, her reckless charge – and the drone – made disengaging and pursuit impossible. He managed to dance aside and get into cover, and his pistol snapped out several shots, blowing the drone out of the air. His second shot was some sort of concussion pulse, which landed behind Tali, making her stumble out of her shallow cover.

His armor smoking, Ahern charged Tali, limping as he ducked under a stream of electroplasma fire. He triggered something on his omnitool and a temporary omni-field sprang up right in front of Tali, spraying her Reegar's blast back over her, making her drop her shotgun.

He closed on her with a flying leap, coming down to one side. She reached for her submachine gun, but his leg swung out in a sweep, taking Tali's legs from under her, sending her sprawling and her weapon flying.

Ahern threw himself into a backwards roll, avoiding her counter of flaring plasma from her omnitool at him, and with quick motion, he kicked her submachine gun out of reach. Tali managed to get to her feet, and snatch up her shotgun, but even as she did so, Ahern tapped his omni, firing off a weapon overload command. Tali's weapon spit a blob of hot plasma and shut off.

He was on her before she could even react, flipping her completely over his head to slam flat on the ground. A second later his omnitool snicked out, slicing her reik in half to 'kill' her.

He immediately swung towards the shuttle, hand dipping to his belt, but it was empty of grenades. His arm missiles were also depleted, and so he triggered an omni-grenade barrage, trying to aim for the shuttle's 'engines'.

Shepard reacted with a combined barrier and a weak push field, scattering the bomblets. Ahern leapt over two barricades and was reaching for something on his leg when the officer shouted out.

"Time! LTC Zorah and LTC T'Soni are dead. The padd is unrecoverable, but Major Shepard has the data on the pad present on her omni and wins the mission."

Ahern limped forward for several more feet before coming to a stop, angrily slapping his helmet control. "What the shitting hell are you talking about, captain? I had that padd booby-trapped – if they so much as touched it, the thing would have gone up in an explosion. They did NOT recover it."

Shepard took off her own helmet and smiled, even as medics rushed onto the field. "No, sir. We didn't recover the padd, but we did get the data. Tali hacked it remotely using a quarian info-war method. The whole goal was to keep you distracted long enough for her to hack it, then transmit it to me. I would charge back and 'win' while the other two held you off."

Ahern scowled. "I said the mission was to recover the padd, not just the data!"

The officer, a young looking Marine captain, coughed. "Actually, sir, you said 'recover the data and get back to the shuttle'. If the goal had been the recovery of data from a source in the real world, Major Shepard's tactics would have worked." He smiled. "I'll go inform the observers that you will have a report for them once you finish debriefing the Major and her team, sir."

Ahern snorted. "Go do that. Goddamned space laywers."

Liara and Tali walked – or in the case of Liara, limped – over, their armor battered and dusty. Ahern glanced at the three of them, then shook his head and smirked. "About time you goddamned idiots stepped up. That was good fucking thinking – just like I taught you. And you finally figured out when the time for sacrificing your men for the mission was appropriate." He paused, then faced Shepard directly.

"Shepard, you're still a bit too aggressive, but you're finally getting the hang of mixing corralling fire with pressure tactics, and that mix of shockwave and debris to set up T'Soni's little biotic fuckery was actually brilliant. Got very close to disarming me, actually. Good use of the sniper rifle, and the fake biotic charge was really inventive. You took a bit too much fire from my Sabre – the concept of goddamned cover is still something you need work on, apparently – but the evasion used, especially in getting away from me and back to the shuttle, that was good. However, we both know you'd never actually sacrifice T'Soni or Zorah like that in a real fight. Try to focus on strategies in the future that you will actually pull off."

He glanced at Liara."T'Soni, that parkour bullshit pisses me off, but it is very effective. The floating shield thing you used to cover the recon drone was brilliant. Using your stasis biotics to fuck with my armor was something I wasn't ready for, especially when you followed it up with warp. Those combination attacks are very nasty, I think that last biotic explosion rattled my brains a bit. Still, you let me fuck up your arm and bracket you with anti-biotic grenades, which let me overpower and kill you. You made a good effort at close quarters combat, but remember you will almost always be hurt when the fight gets to that range, and a wounded arm will nullify most of what you learned. You are better...but you still need improvement."

He finally looked at Tali. "Zorah, you fling grenades and drones the way a sailor spends money in a whorehouse, but that's not a bad thing. The fact you hacked my padd is impressive, since that's the same damned encryption I use for comms with SA Command. Doing so in less than a minute is both incredible and fucking scary. Don't do that again. The suppressive fire was a bit weak, but I couldn't break your defensive setup even with my Sabre, so you do have that down. The multi-hack was good but most professionals will have a quick purge routine setup like I do. I get now why you did that stupid charge, to distract me from Shepard, but you could have come up with some other way to pin me down rather than sacrificing yourself. Remember, if the only answer to a problem ends up with you dead, you are fucking missing the correct answer."

Ahern glanced over his own armor, which was pretty beaten up. Ahern had taken heavy shots pretty much everywhere, was limping badly, and his back was charred. Shepard had taken some shots, Liara had a fractured arm and some grazes on her legs and forearm, and Tali had singes and bruises everywhere. The medics were already approaching. Ahern nodded thoughtfully to himself and gave them a thin smile.

"Not bad. Not _good_, mind you, but not bad. You did better than both Delacor and Branson, so that's a plus, although Anderson and Dragunov both actually beat me down and got the actual padd. Still, I won't be a little bitch about the details. You pass."

The three of them panted and nodded. Shepard looked utterly spent, while Liara was a far paler shade of blue than Tali had ever seen. Tali herself felt like someone had stomped on her for an hour, but her face was stuck in a huge grin.

They'd done it.

Ahern sighed, glancing to where the captain was talking to the small group of officers that had watched them fight, then frowned at the gouge put his forearm armor by Liara's shotgun fire before shaking his head. "Huh. I'm a better teacher than I thought."

He smirked and glanced over them. "Why are you ladies all heaving like you ran a marathon?"

Tali spat. "...you broke my .. everything...when you flipped me." She limped over to a nearby barricade and slumped against it tiredly, her armor dusty and battered. Dr. Sedanya knelt next to her, checking her suit with her omnitool and clucking at the new dents in Tali's cybernetic leg.

Liara had already simply sat down where she stood, wiping sweat from her tired features. The medic was removing pieces of her armor to examine her right forearm. "I do not think I have the strength for any more biotics. I have never seen anyone _dodge_ a singularity before."

He snorted. "The trick is recognizing what you're forming before your throw it. That, and mag-locks on the boots help keep me from floating away helplessly. Keep in mind your little black hole also throws off any rounds incoming towards me, which is why none of those shots you and Shepard were flinging at me got anywhere close."

Liara stared at him for a second before face palming. "Goddess, how stupid of me. No wonder I could not hit you."

Shepard had managed to stay standing – she was not giving the bastard the pleasure of showing how tired she was. "Now what, Admiral? Is this the end of the training, or is there more?"

He snorted. "That depends. Do your really want some more? It's not like you three actually took me down. We can run it again and see if that bullshit with the biotic explosions will work when I'm sniping you with disruptor rounds."

Shepard made a sound halfway between snorting and choking, and glared. "You said to beat you, and we did. Well, sort of. Anyway, what I'm asking is if there is more to go over, or if we get to rest a bit before shipping out. We only have a week left." She frowned as a medic approached her, waving the younger woman away.

Ahern nodded, folding his arms. "There is one other thing I could use your help with, Shepard. I believe when you first arrived I mentioned a wager. It's something I've been working on for the past couple of years, part training project, part hobby, and partly as a way to further humiliate you idiots who come for training."

He tapped his omnitool. "One of the main things Pinnacle prides itself on is building combat scenarios. Both the Systems Alliance and the Citadel Council have used my scenarios, and even the Spectres use one or two. I've built hundreds of them for training various officers in various tasks, some simple, some complex. I've redone battles of the First Contact War, simulations of the turian Unification Wars, updated human battles like Hastings and Cannae into modern terms and technology."

He paused. "I've even recreated the assault of my own Legacy Team on Dalthos Fortress. And I have a project I'd like you to take a stab at helping me improve."

She nodded. "Let me guess. You want me to see if my team can did you what you did at Dalthos, against the turians."

Ahern looked at her for a long moment, glancing at Tali and Liara, before erupting into loud, mocking laughter. It must have gone on for a good twenty seconds, every time he seemed about ready to calm down he'd look at her and crack up again.

Liara frowned at him, a bit hurt at his clear mockery, while Tali got to her feet after being being checked over by the medic, folding her arms and glaring. Shepard merely sighed and sunk her weight back onto her right leg, waiting.

Ahern coughed, slightly red in the face, and chuckled. "Ah, goddamn, I haven't heard anything that funny and stupid in fucking years. Shepard, you wouldn't last sixteen seconds at Dalthos. You just had five weeks of me telling you that your head is too fucking big and I see it hasn't shrunk much."

He shook his head. "No, not that. Why don't you three go hit medical and relax a bit. I'll meet you in my office Monday and we can discuss what I have in mind in more detail." He turned away, not even bothering to get out of earshot before he erupted into fresh laughter, limping as his medics trailed him, trying to get him to stop to fix the wounds he had.

Shepard glared after him. "Asshole."

Tali nodded. "Yeah." She paused. "Um... what happened at Dalthos Fortress, anyway? It couldn't be much worse than us going up against Saren and Benezia..."

Shepard frowned. "Five human soldiers with no biotics, omnitools and only basic weapons snuck past a Turian fleet, hijacked a cruiser, crashed into a turian fortress, fought past two hundred defenders, stole VI codes to turian defensive systems, used them to blow up a dreadnaught, and then survived a kinetic bombardment and escaped."

Tali nodded a second time, slowly coming to a stop and then shaking her head. "...maybe he has a point?"

Shepard gave Tali a look. "We could handle it...I mean... if we had a few more than just the three of us..."

Ahern's distant laughter mocked her.


	13. Chapter 13 : Protheans and Preparations

_**A/N:** This was a difficult fluff chapter to write. It's also a bit lengthy, but I'm trying to close out the Arc and move on.  
><em>

_Also, I have at last identified the Shepard-as-Butcher song : Psychotico Apolyptic, from the M&B Warband OST. No, the Butcher-state doesn't show up in this chapter :D_

_As always, if you have questions about some of what is referenced here, leave a review or PM and I will answer as fast as I can. :)_

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><p><em><em>'People talk about opening up as if it was easy. How can you explain what you don't understand yourself, when every word out of your mouth sounds stupid?'<br>__

__ – Major-Commander Sara Shepard, 'Lay it on me'__

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><p>Admiral Ahern sat in his office late Saturday night, the only light in the room coming from the station's status repeater on the wall and from the windows. A bottle of brandy was on his desk, a glass of it in his hands, and a padd lay tossed onto the desk's surface.<p>

He sipped his brandy slowly, staring out the windows over his base, lost in thought. He knew the bars would be packed, hard-partying Marines from the Second Arcturus fresh from graduating from A-Rate school mingling with Shepard's hard-worked crews who were also celebrating. It was a good night, for most. One of success and celebration, victory and preparing to move on to bigger and better things.

He gently put the glass down, feeling his years and the exertions of the past month. For him, this was usually a time for him to relax. He was too wrought up to relax, though. Nor could he work on the simulation that would kick off on Monday. His mind was having trouble focusing on it.

He hated introspection, and when he got like this, he often felt it was just his childish side, suppressed in the trials of his youth, coming out to play. Second guessing yourself was stupid, and it was always best to just over-prepare for the worst, then go with the flow. The turians had the right idea: make a decision, stick with it, and don't second guess it.

That he was doubting his course of action made him concerned that his judgment and common sense had fallen prey to hubris about his own infallibility. It would be ironic if after preaching his mantra to so many other officers that he had trained, he'd fall afoul of it himself.

Ahern had lived a life that would have killed most people, and had always done so based on his own rules. The rules had served in battle as well as life, and he found that every time he got in trouble, it had been due to breaking one. Once, Rachel Florez had mockingly called them "The Tenets of Not Dying Like an Idiot", and the name for the rules had stuck.

One of those rules was 'Never assume, always verify'. And he'd made some pretty hefty assumptions in the case of Shepard, assumptions that now led him to wonder about the longer-term wisdom of both what he had put her through, and what she would end up becoming.

When the Fleet Master had given him this stupid assignment – train Shepard and her two alien officers, get her crews and ships in shape, and explain to her the truth about the SA – he'd been more than skeptical, and drawn up his arguments against doing such a thing based on what he felt was common sense, along with a good dollop of cursing, because, hey, fuck Dragunov.

The Fleet had just taken a serious beating at both Terra Nova and the Citadel, and detailing an entire BG to do God knows what under the command of someone who had been ground-side until a year ago was flat out retarded. Worse, half the ships given to Shepard were smashed to hell, the other half relics from the fucking 2150's.

The Kazan was a good ship...full of untested prototypes that could go belly up at a moment's notice, and turning the rest of the fleet into test platforms was just asking for trouble when they got into a real fight. Getting the ships straightened out in a normal, four month stand-down would be no problem. Five weeks, however, _was_ a problem, especially when he knew full well BuShips would waste a whole week on bitching.

The crews were more of the same – fragments from other ships that had been lost at Terra Nova or the Citadel. Untested in working together, with half the captains having been XO's before this assignment, and the only truly experienced captain the entire fleet being von Khar.

It didn't help that his own people wouldn't actually have all five weeks to train the crew, given they had to work on the refits as well.

Shepard's command staff was basically worthless. The mouthy little pilot was the best he'd ever seen – and Ahern did not impress easily – but too cocky. Colms was his own goddamned bundle of problems, the guy was _not_ stable and clearly going to build a giant bomb someday that would probably get them all killed.

The rest were just _there _– not enough experience to stand out. If they'd been command staff on a regular cruiser under the command of a superior ship with mentors to learn from, he would say they were fine. But they were going to be the senior staff of an entire battle group, and none of them had the experience for that.

On top of that, the idea of training LTC T'Soni and LTC Zorah into proper officers of any kind in five weeks was ridiculous. The very concept of getting two alien teens into the kind of condition and mindset that was expected of a_ Lieutenant Commander_ in that time frame, which usually took years, was even more stupid. Ensigns and Second Lieutenants went through a focused two-year program, then at least four years of service to get promoted, and then usually four more on top of that to even hit LTC, much less section command on a heavy cruiser.

He couldn't work miracles, he'd argued.

Yet, as the past few weeks had proven, he could get close.

The crews were coming together, although he wouldn't like to see them up against a superior force. The various officers had, once they'd gotten the shit kicked out of them, actually stepped up and demonstrated that BuPers wasn't actually staffed by incompetents, and that they could perform. That had surprised him, but he was actually slightly encouraged by this. If this is what could be done with a random group of fragmented crews, perhaps humanity was not irrevocably, totally fucked after all.

T'Soni had not learned everything she needed to know, but she would at fucking least stop just trailing after her girlfriend and throw warp fire at everything. The quarian girl had actually impressed him, some part of her grit to not give up reminding him even more of his own lost daughter. He had no doubts she'd be able to survive. The fact that both of them took their jobs and duty to the SA very seriously had surprised him as well, but he had to grudgingly admit that they probably wouldn't fuck anything up too bad.

Shepard had surprised him the most. And after decades of fighting with all kinds of Marines and training half the damned command officers in the SA, he should have not been able to _be _surprised by someone like her.

Never assume, always verify. Assumption was the momma of all fuckups.

He'd assumed that Shepard was simply not something that was salvageable, right from the start. The woman was damaged goods, no one in their right mind could doubt that. The bullshit pulled on her at Torfan had clearly fucked her head up. She'd been given a reprieve by being made a Spectre, but too many of her fights ended up with her in a hospital bed, which to him smelled of a death wish.

He was really tired of emo-ass crying asshats who decided pulling AD 960 was the way to end their problems. Death never solved shit, and dying because you couldn't man the fuck up – no matter how bad shit was – just pissed him off more. He'd assumed that had been her problem.

He'd ignored, for the most part, that she had over the course of a year gone from a murdering crazed little bitch to something that the SA could finally take some pride in. He simply assumed that someone had finally stepped up. Maybe Rachel and Anderson were mentoring her again. He didn't know all the details when he began, only the flaws that he saw in her combat style.

That and the fact she was fucking her precious little asari doctor. Ugh. That still pissed him off. He'd argued with the Fleet Master, and been told point blank that the Commissariat had already signed off on it. So had the President. Some shit about Beacons and noble rights or some other garbage. He'd thrown up his hands and agreed under protest, and assumed that she had someone keeping her out of trouble and making sure she wasn't tossed to the wolves.

He took another sip of his drink, wincing at how wrong he'd been about _that_ shit.

Given that he was forced to train her, he wasn't going to half-ass it, and begun reviewing everything he could find on her. Lots of video, lots of tactical write-ups, lots of rumor and word-of-mouth bullshit. Lots of verbal fellation about how 'lethal' she was. All he saw was yet another blood-drenched biotic yo-yo, flung around with the finesse of a vorcha demolitions team.

He'd assumed, based on the paucity of clear combat data and the evidence of what he saw in their first training session, that she was just a disaster. Little more than a brutal wrecking ball that stormed in and killed before an enemy could prepare.

She was ruthless and willing to pay any cost to get the job done, but had no grace, no understanding of when the terror was just too fucking much. Of course she scared the shit out of pirates and slavers. Big fucking deal. Didn't impress him, and he assumed she did it out of more fucktarded desire for showing how badass she was.

He knew how the Legion was trained. Goddamned attrition tactics, with the tactical awareness of a fucking volus. And that training echoed in her fighting style – the dependance on full-auto weapons, the lack of proper use of cover.

Granted, it wasn't all she had to work with. She had taken bits of what she could piece together from tactical manuals, endless hours of practice, and volunteering to work with asari commandos, and had somehow put that together into a fighting style. It was crude, rough, and full of holes, but it was a fighting style. And at least she was protective of those close to her, and her crews. That showed she wasn't a complete sociopath.

Her style, such as it was, demonstrated the pinnacle of what the SA wanted out of their Vanguards, brutality mixed with mobility. Ahern didn't bother picking it apart to salvage it, he just told her it sucked ass and began training her properly. He thought the Vanguard program was stupid from the start, and given that no Vanguard had ever fucking survived long enough to be a command officer before Shepard, he rather thought that proved his point.

Ahern had trained more than one so-called badass from the N7s before. He'd dealt with cocky assholes, people who clearly had more balls than brains, and those – like Branson – who were quite plainly fake heroes. So he'd been expecting a great deal of resistance of his training, of her arguing her way of doing things as better, of her pulling out some shit about him not being biotic and not getting it.

He had assumed she was arrogant, and yet she wasn't. Sloppy, yes. Untrained, yes. But not arrogant. It hadn't hit him until nearly the fourth week into the training, when he had first realized she hand not complained even once.

He'd been drilling her hard on cover mechanics, for hours, and she was clearly exhausted both physically and mentally. At one point she'd almost been unable to stand. But she kept on getting up and going at it. When he'd given her a break, she'd made a joke about how just dodging around with the kanquess was easier.

He'd asked her if that was the case, why hadn't she pushed back on his training, assuming her answer would be something smartass. Instead, she'd given him the most god-awful fucking look he'd ever seen in his entire life.

_Gratitude_.

That look was pure gratitude. She had smiled a moment later, and said she was just happy to be trained by someone who gave a shit if she lived or died.

He'd been surprised at how hard she worked at it, pushing herself to her limits to get it right without even bitching about it. And now he understood. She didn't complain because she was actually _happy. _

Someone was training her properly for the first time in her life, and even if she felt like her own battle style had been stupid and she'd wasted her time, she was overjoyed someone believed in her enough to try and teach her how to _fix_ it. She was happy Ahern, the greatest instructor in the entire SA, cared enough about her life to show her a better way. She was happy she had a clear method to improve herself.

Ahern felt physically ill when that realization hit him.

He'd had to cut their session short, so he could scream invectives in his office at the top of his lungs. He had eventually calmed enough to rethink his entire position on her.

He wondered what it cost her, all these years of doing shit on her own.

How many times she'd had no one to explain why her assaults had gone wrong, or how to deal with the trauma of battle. How much agony she'd put herself through trying to figure out rules no one bothered to explain, to make herself the best without a single solitary fucking clue on how to proceed. How many times she'd killed her own emotions, just to process shit she had no way of figuring out, while she dodged both fame and curses.

He had assumed, before he understood her, that she'd just been stupid and full of herself, thinking she didn't need to follow the rules because she had biotics. The truth – that she'd been forced to develop her own fighting style and make it work – explained all the things wrong with it.

Her fixation on overwhelming firepower had clearly come from the inadequate weapons of the Legion and probably the RRU. Her need for the heaviest fucking armor probably stemmed from the same lace, that and watching her marines die on Torfan due to the Onyx not having good spall protection when shields were breached. Her love of explosives was an artifact of Rachel having trained her, as was most of her martial arts. Her lack of any tactical subtlety was due to no one teaching it to her.

Her aggression and hate made her seemingly act stupid, but they also let her power through things she might not have with a cooler head. She didn't bother with cover and maneuver tactics because pressure tactics with the kanquess let her kill the enemy faster – preferably before they could kill any more of her friends. And unlike so many command officers, who let the deaths just become numbers, she took every one of them personally.

Worst of all, he'd torn her style apart thinking she was arrogant, belittling everything she'd achieved, and now that seemed less like breaking through arrogance, and more like kicking a puppy. He'd basically upended everything she'd done for herself, throwing it away as useless.

Ahern wasn't much for touchy-feely bullshit, but even he could understand that probably hurt her.

And she was still grateful. Goddamn it.

He'd gone back and reviewed again, with a more critical eye, much of the combat footage they had on her. He himself had mocked her actions on Eden Prime, charging recklessly into a pile of geth, then biotically punching a Prime after using pulls and shock waves to crush the rest of the geth with shipping crates. Yet no matter how he ran that situation, given the starting condition – rickety tram under heavy missile fire, and then close range with a Prime – he couldn't find a better way to end the fight than what she had done.

Likewise, her other battles had proven she had the gift for command, even if not the details. She was a natural at space combat. She was a master at small units. She wasn't some REMF sending her men off to get killed out of laziness, she risked her life right next to them on the line every time. Her sloppiness with the helmet, her tendency to go for flash over substance – these were just marks of neglect, not of arrogance.

With a bare handful of marines and a few aliens, she'd taken down Cerberus, assaulted dug in geth, escaped certain death twice, outfought Saren, managed to save the council and go toe-to-toe with one of the strongest asari war priestesses in history without dying.

Shepard had needed to be reshaped, but he'd done so before understanding her, or why she acted the way she did. She'd taken all of his training well. She'd learned his tactics well. When she put her mind to it, and someone bothered to actually fix her issues, she'd proven she wasn't just a bloodthirsty little bitch.

She was a _soldier_. A Marine.

He'd assumed that after his first meeting – after seeing the verbal jab he'd thrown destabilize her badly enough to take a swing at him – that he just had to beat her ass into shape and make her respect him to make everything work. He'd assumed that her issues and failing were due to her arrogance, not her lack of understanding, or help.

And it made no sense that she didn't have that help. She was the protege of David Anderson and Rachel Florez, the personal golden-girl of General von Grath and Preston Kyle. There were enough people to have seen what he saw, to have stepped in and helped, to have done something besides let her go on this way.

Rather than assume again, he decided to to ask, and by ask he meant getting them on the horn to scream bloody fucking murder at them. Oh, Anderson and von Grath and that stupid fuck Delacor had all given their reasons, but they all added up to the same goddamned thing. "We assumed".

With Delacor, he was a goddamned pussy, plain and simple. The man had a string of bad luck as long as vorcha were stupid, and it had made him a weak-ass crying man-child. He was sorry Kyle had died, but his final act was trolling on a level just as good as Michael Saracino's had been back in the day, and personally Ahern though it was hilarious Kyle had nearly killed Delacor with his final fuck you. Delacor deserved it – instead of trying to mentor or help Shepard, he'd just let her run wild, then complained to command when she did so. He assumed that she was not fixable – which Ahern could understand – but also that someone at SA HQ was 'out to get him' by assigning her to him.

Fucking paranoid jackass.

As for that fool von Grath, his answers had been equally fucking useless. "Shepard always struck me as a carefully balanced disaster. I tried to mitigate the damage her actions did to her career, rather than risk destabilizing my finest weapon that I had no chance of really understanding. I assumed that others closer to her might be better at that task." He was basically just a cold-blooded aristocratic REMF, and Ahern's fury had bounced off the man's arrogant disdain, finally ending with von Grath rather breezily commenting that Ahern should focus more on fixing Shepard than complaining about the failures of others.

Those two were fucking idiots. And himself a fucktard, right there with them.

His conversation with Anderson had been the worst, of course.

Anderson had basically straight out said that there was nothing to 'fix', that while Shepard had a lot of problems, she was a big girl and the whole Benezia Incident had proven she could handle herself, just fine. He claimed he hadn't known about some of the shit she'd been put through, or her entire early history, until he'd already reached Captain – and that his first act was to get her under his own command so that he could help her.

And he resented the idea that there was anything wrong with his assumption that Shepard just needed some emotional support, and not a complete overhaul. "With all due respect, Admiral Ahern, you have no idea how emotionally damaged she is. When it comes to addressing that or your perceived flaws in her combat skills, I'll work on the former every time."

Idiot.

Ahern had no problems believing Anderson didn't get Shepard. So she had a rough childhood and upbringing. If the SA had not done every possible fucking thing they could to break her once she was under their control, she could have gotten over that shit years ago.

And yet...the SA had done everything they could to mind fuck her, while people like Anderson stood by and watched.

It bothered him, a lot. For all these years, David had always taken an interest in Shepard, touted her as his best soldier. He had frankly expected better of David, and he'd been more than a little sharp with the man. Far too many of Anderson's answers had just pissed him off more, especially given that Anderson was basically turning a blind eye to her problems, fixing her 'emotional damage' while leaving her skills in the state they were in.

He had already heard, via his oldest friend, Yonis Chu, that Rachel Florez was one of the people in charge of Cerberus. And the more he flipped through Shepard's records and postings, he had an ugly suspicion she wasn't the only one in bed with those sick fucks. There were just too many coincidences, too many old pieces of the ugly shit that had created nightmares like Cerberus and the Legion project, floating around Shepard.

No one bothered to really _look_ at her. No one saw anything wrong except she was 'bloodthirsty' or 'hard to control'. No one asked the simple fucking question of how she was able to pull the shit she did off. No one bothered to connect the dots between her past and her inability to fit in.

No one was that blind and stupid. The SA, Cerberus, or _someone_ had been carefully crafting a weapon.

That was what really infuriated him, in the aftermath of figuring her out. Someone had done this to her _on purpose. _They wanted a biotic killing machine, emotionless, broken, and desperate for someone to tell her she did a good job. Every step of her career, from the all-too-repeated missions with no down time, to the set up at Torfan, to sticking her with Delacor, pointed to it.

Even her recruitment smelled fishy. What in fuck would Anderson be doing in the worst part of the NyARC, anyway? Her record had so many black-marks and redactions in it that it might as well have just been a black sheet of paper.

Anderson said he hadn't reacted because there was nothing to fix. He took another drink. There were times he wondered if literally every single being in the galaxy other than him was a goddamned idiot.

If the SA had been trying to craft a SPECTRE, they'd succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. The kind of shit they were throwing at her now – nobility, commands, letting her literally break all the rules and marry her asari girlfriend – they were just there to win her loyalty, make her love the SA again.

It was simple emotional manipulation, the kind of shit a normal person would see through instantly – but Shepard was crippled in that regard. Funny, for all Anderson's words about fixing her emotional issues, there wasn't much evidence of it.

There were times he hated the SA. He knew, better than most, why it acted the way it did. It was more than the shit the other races did, more than the dark secrets in the Mars Archive, even more than the paranoia and scars left by the Days of Iron. Humans overreacted when they were scared, and humanity had been running scared for over a century now.

He served the SA loyally because there was no alternative. It was all built to keep going, to prevent anything from derailing whatever fucked up plans the noble big shots had, and more importantly, to keep humanity from going out like the krogan – or the rachni. Balanced against that, even bullshit like what they were doing to Shepard could be rationalized. And it wasn't his job to criticize. Shit had happened, the only response was to adjust your own plans.

The bigger issue was how exactly to adjust said plans. The questions he had to ask himself now were two. First, should he even get involved in what was going on with Shepard, and second, if he did, what to do to fix the situation.

The first question was easy enough. He was a goddamned Marine. She was a goddamned Marine. Marines did not leave other marines behind.

That left him with how exactly to help her. Telling her straight out wouldn't do anything. If he was right and she'd been played her entire life, she wouldn't believe him. And more than that, just telling her wouldn't do anything but destroy her completely. She needed to realize that Bad Shit Happens, and you can't really stop it with nice words.

Even if she did believe him and didn't go mad, then what? One didn't invest that kind of effort into one soldier without a very solid reason, and he didn't know that reason. Derailing her at this point might do more harm than good, and he was done with assuming shit.

That didn't mean he had to leave shit as it was. He'd done what he could to turn her from a mindless weapon into a fine soldier. She could, with time, adapt what he'd taught her and incorporate it into her own combat style, maybe creating a unison of the two. He was pretty sure that would both fulfill whatever the SA wanted for her without leaving her helpless against the first goddamned credible assassin they sent her way.

No, the real thing she needed now was a final bit of guidance. She needed to _see _what she'd become, before this training. He'd torn her down her whole time here, so it was time to do a little rebuilding and to show her why he'd done what he had done. The reasons had changed, but she hardly needed to know that. What she needed was simple guidance on how to make herself better. Someone to not coddle her, but to encourage her and give specific improvements.

And if the SA could play subtle mind games, well, he could fucking do that too. With a grim smile, he poured himself another glass of brandy, and decided to make some changes to his little simulation on Monday.

O-ATTWN-O

Shepard spent Sunday morning in her study on the Kazan, going through reports on ship and crew readiness, feeling a slowly rising sense of satisfaction. For the last week of refit, she'd decided to give her people a break. Working with Pressly, she drew up four-section watch-standing schedules and limited daily drills to four hours a day, with liberty set each night at 1800 hours. She also told the fleet they could expect a good two weeks leave when BG Chiron got back to Arcturus, which helped boost morale even more.

There was still some minor work to be done – testing, shakedowns and the like. The captains had submitted their proposed shakedown schedules, mostly doing them on Monday and Tuesday, which would give them three days to address any last minute problems.

After wasting her morning on administrivia, she ate lunch on the Kazan's mess decks with Liara, who was excited. Apparently she had been contacted by the Systems Alliance's Prothean Research Center on Mars, who were wondering if she and Shepard could assist with translating or understanding certain Prothean materials from the Archive. Liara's new status as an officer and citizen made her 'trustworthy' enough to see such information, because the Alliance was certainly not letting other aliens get a look at it.

Shepard ate her sandwich calmly. "I guess I can take a stab at it. Did they send something for us to look at or..."

Liara smiled and pulled out her padd, bringing up an image of a heavily carved metallic tablet. "They did! They have been working on this piece for almost five years now, and they think – based on the diagrams near the bottom – that it must have something to do with explanations of how mass relays work. I've taken a look at it myself, but my version of the Cipher does not seem to grant me any ability at reading actual Prothean script..."

Shepard glanced at it, then frowned and read more intently. Finally she shook her head. "Well, that's fucking creepy."

Liara looked up. "What is it, Sara?"

Shepard gave a long, slow exhale. "Yeah...I can read this. It isn't good news." She put down her food and looked up at Liara. "This is a warning. The Prothean who wrote it is describing what research they had managed to accomplish on creating their own mass relays. It says there is a kind of math needed to figure it out..."

She squinted at the image. "...and that it ends up driving people batshit crazy. This thing is talking about how they built the Conduit, Liara – warning us that trying to build mass relays is very dangerous."

Liara frowned. "I am delighted you can read this, but...why would the Protheans be warning us about building relays?"

Shepard gave a pained smile, glancing back at the text. "The Reapers shut down all the relays they built once they took over the Citadel. The Conduit was supposed to be their test bed platform to get around that, except most of the people working on it went fucking crazy, and every time they tested the power-sources out the Reapers showed up almost instantly. Their game plan to build their own relays to get around the shut down just ended up getting a lot of hidden research worlds taken out."

She grimaced. "The guy who wrote this says the Reapers showed up less than forty-eight hours after their first tests of a scaled down mass relay. He thinks it is what set them off to invade, and is telling us not to do the same thing. The only reason they never found the Conduit is the Protheans finally managed to figure out how to tweak the power supply to use something else, but that took the power of an entire planet's worth of generators and wasn't really useful for large-scale deployment."

She tapped the padd. "The stuff at the bottom is harder to make out. It's a bunch of math related stuff, and I'm...not sure what the fuck the guy is saying." She handed it back to Liara, who took it back with a smile.

"Even so, this is wonderful. There must be all sorts of information the Protheans left behind on the Mars Archive that hasn't been looked at! We could work on this together and help the Systems Alliance at the same time as we advance knowledge of the Protheans."

Shepard leaned back in her chair, smiling at the happiness Liara was radiating. "Well...I do need a hobby besides making guns and killing shit, I guess. And it is something we can do together. You'll have to educate me on some of this stuff, I can read it but I don't know what some of it will mean."

Liara smiled brilliantly, and took Shepard's hand. "I would like that. It would give us another connection."

She was about to reply when Ensign Traynor came out of the lift, looking around. She pulled her hand away from Liara's to motion the younger woman over. "Traynor?"

The comms officer blushed as she smiled hesitantly at them both. Shepard was not one hundred percent sure why Traynor tended to blush around her and Liara, but she had her suspicions. At least she was more subtle about it than some of the men, so she shrugged it off.

Traynor finally found her voice. "Ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt, but you have a call incoming from General von Grath. He said it has something to do with you and Lieutenant Commander T'Soni?"

Shepard ignored the questioning note in her voice and sighed. "I'm about done eating, anyway. You up to talking to the General, Liara?"

Liara had already finished her small meal, and stood, gathering up her padd. "Yes, of course."

Shepard nodded. "Traynor, tell him we'll be on the horn as soon as finish my sandwich." She watched the comm officer walk away before shaking her head, taking another bite of her food.

Liara glanced at her. "You are...amused?"

Shepard jerked her head in the direction of the now closed elevator. "I think our ensign has a crush on me, or you." She coughed. "Or both. And if _I_ can see it, daaaamn."

Liara blinked, glanced at the elevator, then blinked again. "Oh. Oh! I-I mean, I am not sure that sort...is that even proper? Are threesomes common among your people? I did not know you were open to such things."

Shepard managed not to choke.

O-OSaBC-O

A few minutes later, they were in Sara's ready room, facing the comm plinth in the corner, now filled with a small holographic projection of General von Grath.

"Ah, Shepard. I am gratified to see you are in one piece after a month in the hands of that crazed lunatic Ahern. And milady Liara, you look as radiant as usual."

Shepard put her hands on her hips "You stole my doctor, sir."

Jason von Grath stroked his mustache with unmistakable smug glee. "I am sure I do not understand what you mean. I merely offered Karin a chance to have a calmer assignment and catch her breath after _someone _dragged her into the most hellish fights since the First Contact War."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Sir, I thought you learned your lesson about this kind of thing with Colonel Amanda Slate. Besides, you know my track record with doctors. She's the first one who ever gave a shit about me." She thought on that a moment, and von Grath arched an eyebrow.

"Well, I assure you I am taking very good care of her. And let's not mention milady Slate, or should I bring up you and the salarian again?"

Shepard snarled. "You are never going to let that go, are you?"

The general only smiled wider. "As satisfying as it may be to spin you up, Shepard, this call is actually in regards to your upcoming tasks at Arcturus. We have managed to ensure there will be neither courts-martial nor any disapproval – at least, officially – from the Systems Alliance command regarding your upcoming nuptials."

Shepard glanced at Liara, before nodding. "That's a neat trick, how did you pull that off?"

He shrugged. "I didn't, really. That is why I requisitioned Major Chakwas, among other reasons. Her reports on your ongoing difficulties after the Beacon and Cipher finished giving your brains a good stir was instrumental in convincing the High Lords that this liaison was the only way to keep you alive."

Shepard grimaced. Chakwas had given her the score on that, before she had left, and Dr. Sedanya had confirmed it.

Whatever had been done to Shepard by the Beacon and the Cipher had inflicted severe psycho-neurological trauma on Shepard, enough to kill most people in short order. If Liara had not stepped in and gotten involved by melding and somehow preventing the Cipher and Beacon from doing more damage, Shepard would have died or gone crazy around the time they hit Noveria.

By the estimates of Chakwas, later confirmed by Alliance Medical, without mental intervention like that performed by Liara in the course of their bonding, Shepard would again begin to suffer mental breakdown within four months, and probable catatonia within a year.

She would require an asari to meld deeply with her for the rest of her life, and any asari doing so would be privy to all the secrets in Shepard's head, both Alliance and Spectre – not to mention the truth about the Reapers.

Liara spoke, her voice slightly troubled. "Is the resistance to our joining due to me being an alien, General?"

Von Grath shook his head. "No, at least, not entirely. There are bigots anywhere one goes, of course, but the nobility of Earth like pretending they are above such things. If you were some commoner, the idea would be absurd, but you are the first of the Thirty to bind yourself not only to a human noble, but to take citizenship with the SA. The High Lords of Sol already see you as some kind of playing piece to use with our own asari citizens."

He folded his arms. "Moreover, the larger issue of concern is that you are a serving officer under Shepard's command. Fraternization is not well tolerated in the Alliance Military, despite how much of it occurs. Liaisons between officers in differing lines of command are fine, but any relationships between enlisted and officers – or subordinate and superior officers – is a concern."

Von Grath smiled. "Got around that, too. The Articles of Nobility finally came in handy."

Shepard gave him a puzzled look, and von Grath winced. "Shepard, as a noble, you have a duty to carry on your line through children."

Shepard scowled. "General, you already know I am sterile. I can't have …" She glanced at Liara. "...oh."

Von Grath snickered. "I love how your mouth effortlessly outruns your brain, then graciously pauses to let it catch up. Yes, as you have surmised, since you cannot fulfill the requirement, pairing you with an asari is the only solution. It was done a few years back by the Fordant Family, when Baron Fordant was rendered sterile and had no relatives within four degrees of separation – he married an asari girl from some Lesser House."

Shepard nodded. "In other words, there won't be any problems? That would be a first."

Von Grath smiled. "I can assure you that any problems will not come from the SA. The affair will be held upon my family's estates on Arcturus Station, far from prying reporters. Captain Anderson and Matriarch Aethyta are handling the details, I believe. I called to see if there are any additional people you would care to invite. Here is the list of invitees."

A ping from her omnitool popped up, displaying a short list of invitees. Shepard held it out where Liara could also see and scanned it, frowning. "Holy shit. High Commandant de la Muerte is coming?"

Liara goggled. "And Matriarch Uressa T'Shora?"

Von Grath shrugged. "It will still be very low key – your Normandy crew, a few N7s from your RRU and RIU days who aren't complete idiots, and about a half dozen other humans. Maybe a dozen asari. The Commissariat released that idiot Dunn – who I still cannot believe was stupid enough to join Cerberus – and Anderson made contact with that krogan of yours, Urdnot Wrex, who is bringing back Jackson with him, assuming the man has a mind left at all."

Shepard nodded. It would hopefully be good to see Baby Blue again – she doubted Dunn would be anything but an asshole, but that was sort of expected. And Beatrice surely would not show up. She glanced over the list again, then shrugged. "I can only think of a few people."

Von Grath nodded. "Names and locations, and I will contact them."

Shepard frowned. "The first would be the asari commando who trained me, Strike Mistress Seinna. She should be at the Lodge of the Dancing Kanquess on Thessia. I don't have her TTG code, though..."

Von Grath shrugged. "I am sure Alliance Command will, since that was an official program. Next?"

She smiled. "Valerie Kyle."

Von Grath grimaced. "Ah, the Little Butcher. Kyle's daughter is turning into a complete hellion, these days. I am surprised you are on good terms with her, the rest of her Family – "

She sighed. "Yeah, I know. But she made a point of seeking me out not long after Torfan and saying she forgave me, and that she'd heard the truth of what happened. I think she was angry with her father for not doing more to stop it. Anyway, I need to talk to her. To tell her why her father died. And I hope she will be willing to listen to me and stop trying to be like me. Ugh."

Von Grath shrugged. "Anyone else?"

Shepard tapped her chin. "Just one. Warden Kuril of the Blue Suns Military Corporation, on Purgatory."

Von Grath laughed. "That cretin! The one who paid you off for bringing him slavers! Yes, I suppose you two would get along famously."

She shrugged. "He was the first turian I met who didn't have a stick up his ass. That count has grown to two now..." She checked to make sure Garrus was invited, then glanced at Liara. "Anyone?"

Liara had a brief, mad moment of wanting to invite Amania, just to hurt her. Or maybe Doctor Sanaris, but that would be incredibly petty. Instead, she glanced over the list. Matriarch Suliasa would be there, as well as Riala and several lesser house members were already invited. There were a few more asari, a Vasir whose name she did not recognize, and the strange inclusion of Matriarch Uressa T'Shora.

She thought on who else could attend, and the only name she came up with was her old professor of Prothean Studies. She found it somewhat sad that she could think of no one else close enough to her for an invitation to her own hand-fasting.

_Then again, very few maidens get hand-fasted._

She smiled sadly. "Professor Ranya of Clan Skywatch, at the University of Serrice on Thessia, is the only one I can think of."

She flinched a little at the hurt look on Shepard's face, knowing her bondmate could feel the sting of having so few people to care for her. Von Grath diplomatically said nothing, instead humming and then nodding.

"Very good, ladies. I don't suppose you ladies have given thought to what you will wear?"

Shepard and Liara looked at him blankly, then at each other, then back at him, and he shook his head with a sigh. "Yes, well, delicate flowers you two are not. The ceremony is likely to be short, so perhaps you can get away with dress uniforms, although I believe Matriarch Aethyta is procuring clothing for Lady Liara."

Liara winced. "Asari are hand-fasted while very nearly nude, General, and most other guests are nude as well. Our marriage parties tend to descend into what I believe your people describe as 'orgies'. Any clothing my aithntar obtains will be...decorative and of little substance. "

Shepard derived vast amusement and satisfaction from watching the ever debonair von Grath actually look flustered and seeing him struck speechless, before shaking his head yet again. She laughed. "Liara can take conversations where you least expect it. One of our first talks was on turian-asari sexual injuries."

"You are doing this on purpose, Shepard." Von Grath glared, then laughed. "I am fairly certain that the, ah, proceedings will be held along more _human_ lines than that, Lady Liara. Or else this will be even more entertaining than I originally expected."

He paused, then glanced up at Shepard, his tiny avatar folding its arms again. "I'm afraid there is a slightly more serious side to this call, Shepard. Last night, batarian pirates shot down a civilian liner with over eighty humans on board, literally just outside Alliance space. Alliance diplomats informed the Council this morning, and the embargo against the Hegemony has increased in scope."

He grimaced. "Three hours ago, the pirates executed the surviving humans, saying they would continue this behavior until the Citadel ended the embargo and threw humanity off the Council. They then struck a hanar ship and blew it up. Udina says the Council is wary of pushing any harder – right now, the Fleets are still a wreck, while the Batarians are untouched."

His eyes narrowed. "The threat rating has been raised up to Consterno again, and we just stood down from going E with the mess with Benezia. We may be back at that soon. I'm just advising you there is every chance your two weeks of leave may get cut short by a few days if something else blows up."

Shepard shrugged. "Understood, sir. I've never had two weeks off anyway, and it's not like we're planning to go on a cruise. We will be ready if something happens."

He shrugged back. "I hope so. Admiral Ahern says your battle-group is nearly ready...and tore my head off for not training you better. While I could argue that as a battlesuit pilot I am hardly the one best suited to correct any perceived deficiencies in your combat tactics...I am sorry that I was not more open in your defense after Torfan. I did not do it to hurt you."

She swallowed. After Torfan, pretty much everyone had walked away from her – some openly and hurtfully, like Neutron, others just by fading into the background. With the Second RRU dissolved, and Kyle remanded off to Alliance Medical to undergo treatment for PTSD, the only people who could have stood up for her had been von Grath, Anderson, and Florez.

Rachel had been the only one to do so, while Anderson buried himself in work after they'd argued, and von Grath had simply...moved on, dabbling in politics and with his noble family's obligations. It had hurt, at the time, but there was so much pain wrapped around Torfan she had tried as hard as she could let it go. When he'd just shown up in her life again, she'd been too grateful to bring it up.

She bit her lip, not sure what she should say, and instead Liara spoke.

"General, it is good that you can show your concern, but I believe that is a conversation you should pursue in person, perhaps when things are not so chaotic. We are still exhausted from our training, after all."

Von Grath inclined his head. "Of course. I look forward to seeing you at Arcturus, Shepard. Stay safe."

The connection cut, and Shepard just exhaled quietly. "Thanks, Li...I didn't...what the fuck do you say to that?"

Liara's eyes narrowed and she gazed almost hatefully at the comm plinth for a moment before taking Shepard's hands in hers. "Sara. I am sure he meant well with his words."

Shepard nodded, then squeezed Liara's hands. "I just .."

With a careful movement, she pulled Liara close. "I'm just worn the fuck out."

Liara hugged her, the warmth of Shepard's cheek against hers comforting. "I am here."

Shepard managed to find a smile. "I am just so mixed up right now. Too much shit is happening. Too much is changing. Things...that I've never done, that I don't know how to do, but I am supposed to do."

She bit her lip."And the more I try to make things make sense, the less I actually understand anything at all. I...I study these _things_ Ahern gives me. All these plans, and strategies, and tactics. All this information shoved in my head to make me 'better'. But how much of it can I really get?"

Liara nodded. "I have also struggled to absorb the amount of knowledge flung our way, although I believe that is more due to my own lack of a military background. However, I have an advantage over you in that I have been studying and absorbing information for fifty years." She paused. "I could...work with you? Try and help you to learn things quicker, or help you with studying."

Shepard squeezed her hand tighter. "Thanks. I need that. God, I fucking swear Liara, if I didn't have you I'd be so fucking lost..."

Liara tried very hard to keep her emotions calm and supportive, feeling Shepard's own emotional turmoil. "But you do have me, and always will, so do not despair. You are worried, love." She drew back slightly, enough to look at Shepard's wonderful blue eyes, a look of worry etched on her face. "I am _here_."

Shepard only gave a helpless shrug. "I don't know where to fucking start. People...fuck. They want too much! They think I'm some kind of...of...I don't know. Perfect person or some shit. Have people not been fucking watching me barely survive the last year?"

Liara kissed her. "They see what I see. A heroic figure, who risked her life to do what no one else could hope to achieve. A champion, who never faltered at danger, even when no one believed in her."

Shepard snorted."I'm not a hero. People are goddamned idiots. They .. they assume I can do this, just like they assumed I'd fucking crush pirates, or die heroically at Torfan. And of course Commander Shepard never showed any doubts, so certainly Major Shepard should be fine, right?"

Shepard shook her head. "I don't what in fuck I should even be doing. There's no manual for this shit, and no easy answers."

Liara bit her lip, reaching up to gently stroke her lover's cheek. "Sara, I do not have any answers either. I am as lost as you. All my life is a cast-off wreckage, and all I can do is cling and try to find new meanings. But I have felt as you have felt, when the House expected me to actually take up the mantle of the Matria. I was in over my head, surrounded by people who had demands of me...and yet had never supported me."

Shepard nodded, and Liara smiled. "I ended up walking away from it because I was not ready for it. Not the responsibility, or the pressure, or the expectation. Or the hate I would inevitably encounter. That was not the act of a leader – it was the act of a coward."

Shepard tried to protest but Liara cut her off. "No, love. Please...listen. You feel that you are being pressured into a role you are not ready for, with expectation you cannot fulfill. I do not think that is accurate. I think you have proven you can do this – that _we _can do this. And I think as long as you have people standing with you to help, we can be successful."

Shepard sighed. "That...maybe. I have no idea. I'm just tired of being put on showcase and expected to perform and prove myself. I have to prove to Ahern that I'm...worth the time? The effort? You saw how he acts, he still sees me as some gang-banging idiot who got lucky pretending to be a soldier."

Liara nodded slowly. "His words hurt you. You worked so hard to be the best soldier you could – "

Shepard pulled a hand free, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Yeah. But he's right too, I know that...I'm not complaining. God, Liara, you saw how he took all three of us out like we were fucking volus. Wearing the same shitty armor I've been bitching about for years. I am just …"

Liara frowned, trying to make sense of Shepard's upset. "You are worried about more than not being ready?" She found herself wishing she could make more sense of the jangle of emotions coming through their bond, or that she knew more about how humans thought.

Shepard made an effort at calming down. "I...I'm just a little overwhelmed. Like I said. People keep thinking I am something I'm not, and I guess I had started to buy into the shit myself."

Liara scowled. "I disagree, Sara. I am perhaps borrowing your own bluntness and language, but I can think of no better way to respond than 'fuck these people.'"

Shepard looked at her, and then laughed. It was a good, clean laugh, and Liara smiled and squeezed Shepard's hand again. "I am no better than you at making sense of what we have fallen into, love. But I know that you have achieved a great deal. You lay the credit upon Tali, or myself, or your marines – but if not for you, I would be dead. Tali would be dead. More than likely, we would all be dead. No matter what failings you have, or what you feel you are not good at – _you saved us all."_

Liara almost shyly glanced up at Shepard. "Nothing Ahern can say, or the media, or your superiors, will change that. You claim you are no hero...but you are mine, and always shall be."

Shepard sighed, but Liara felt her happiness at that statement. Shepard rose, pausing to kiss Liara almost absently before pulling away and walking over to her desk. Sitting down in her chair bonelessly, she leaned back and closed her eyes. "Maybe."

Liara walked over as well, folding her arms. "Maybe?"

Shepard smiled. "It...it's more than just expectations. It's all the mess around everything." She swallowed. "Like us getting married. I haven't even really had time to process it. It's just words, but I know it is more than that, and I don't know how I'm supposed to react." She glanced up. "Does that make sense? I mean...fuck. That came out wrong, again. It's not that I don't want to, but..."

Liara thought about this. "I am not sure myself, Sara. Maidens simply do not bond, much less hand-fast. It is not something a maiden thinks on, and both Commissar Susan and Doctor Sedanya have made statements questioning if I am doing this for the right reasons."

The asari folded her arms, and stared into the eyes of her lover. "And I find I do not _care_ if my reasons are good or not. I am tired of stumbling through the wreckage of my life alone, and I know you are too, Sara. I am not doing this for my own safety from the Justicars, but because you need me. You will need me for the rest of your life. And I cannot find it in myself to love anyone else."

She looked down. "If that is a poor reason to hand-fast, then we will deal with the problems as they come. I have not...I do not know how to process everything I feel, or have been forced to learn, either, Sara. But I do not tear myself apart worrying about such, for it solves nothing."

Liara smiled faintly. "And it is not 'just words', although I do understand what you mean. This marriage, this hand-fasting – it is a ceremony. Nothing more. What we have – whatever that it may be called – is not defined by a ceremony."

Liara looked back up. "I will admit, however...I am happy to know that it is happening. Words can be very important things. Ceremonies can be a source of loving memories to light our way when all else is dark."

Shepard gave a little snort at that. "I know there are things I should be feeling, but...I'm a goddamned senior military officer, and I tell myself I should be thinking about other things than this. It's just stuck in my head."

She exhaled. "I'm sure Jiong would have some kind of pithy bullshit to say, but I don't know what else to describe what I'm feeling as 'tumbling'. I worry about if Tali is going to be okay, if this crazy bitch who worked for your mother is going to get us all killed, if I'm really good enough to be leading a task force. I worry I'm not grasping it all, and worried about ...just fucking everything! And when I try to focus on one thing, something else is a problem."

She smiled sourly. "And I end up thinking about getting married and futures and all that stuff...and it feels like I'm fucking off, I guess."

Liara shook her head. "You never got a chance to fantasize about being married to the person of your dreams, Sara. You have never indulged in what you wanted, or had the chance to have a dream and pursuit it and know it would be something that could happen. You are...focused on your job, and to me it is only natural that if you allow yourself to think of happier things that those things distract you from what must a confusing mess of responsibility and worry. "

Shepard made a slashing motion with her hand. "And that just sounds like a cop-out, Li. I'm trying not to run in place, you know? But I don't feel any better at putting things together than I was when this shit all started." She paused. "The shrinks never got what I meant when I said I didn't get it_. _I feel like I'm still not giving you the kind of ...support you need, and now we're getting married, and I am ..."

Liara smiled. "You worry you will be too distracted trying to deal with everything else to properly attend to me?"

Shepard nodded. "Something like that, I guess."

Liara smiled wider. "Sara, all I need is to know you love me, and that you need me. Susan constantly harps on the need for me to set goals beyond you, but she does not understand how broken we are. You are what I want. You do not need to change yourself for me. You do not need to worry that you will not be what I need – you already _are. _I have said it before."

Shepard sighed. "You changed yourself for me." She glanced away in self-disgust. "Into enjoying the sort of things I do. And putting up with the shit in my head. Why shouldn't I change? And I know you say I am what you need, but we both know that's not totally true. You have your own scars, and your own hurts, and I have to figure out how to help you get past it."

She frowned. "Jiong said something very important to me. That pain is the shit we want to change and can't figure out how to. There are things you've decided to change to help me. I have to do the same, but I don't know where to start, or what to change."

Liara shrugged. "I .. I see your point, but I also disagree. I am...changing, yes. I am changing because my goals have changed. You do not need to change because I do not need you to. The upset you have over what we do when we join..."

Liara sighed. "I would have thought you would be pleased by my acceptance of your tastes. "

Shepard buried her hands in her face. "I'm ...when we first bonded, I did this to you. "

Liara smiled. "There is nothing wrong what you do, Sara. And do you honestly think that you were in charge of our bonding? That was something we both needed."

Liara stood, walking quietly over to stand behind Shepard, gently rubbing her shoulders. "Doctor Sedanya finds it distasteful, in the narrow fashion that the Clans often do. I could care less of what people think of it – it is not for them to judge. But I assure you, it is no burden. You have needs, and frustrations, and neither of us is very good at letting go of our stress."

Shepard stifled a happy moan as Liara's fingers massaged away hard knots in her shoulder muscles. "So why do I feel so bad about it? And why are you...going along with it?"

Liara felt a slight blush, but her voice was calm enough. "Sara, many asari begin linking and melding with others in a sensual fashion when they turn sixty, or even younger. Most maidens have thoroughly experimented with their sexuality by the time they are my age. Did it ever occur to you that I was not myself pleased by forty years of self-stimulation?"

Shepard snorted back laughter. "And your reaction is to have me fuck your brains out every night?"

Liara shrugged, continuing to massage Shepard's shoulders. "You put so much importance on the act, rather than the emotions, than the closeness or the oneness."

Shepard shrugged. "I guess that's due to sex being the closest two humans can get to one another."

Liara nodded. "Which is logical, if somewhat depressing. You are all so ...lonely." She let her fingers trail through Shepard's hair, smiling. "To my people, it would be closer to a hug. A gesture of acceptance, but not true intimacy."

Shepard rubbed her eyes, and then her desk comm lit up. "Shepard here."

Jiong's carefully modulated voice spoke. "Major, I believe I spoke to you earlier regarding us having a discussion about your psychological state."

Shepard snorted. "Liara and I have been doing that for a while now. I've only managed to confuse myself more."

Jiong's voice took on a dry note. "Shocking. In any event, perhaps this would be a good time for you to speak with me, and Lady Liara to converse with Susan."

Liara shrugged. "It cannot hurt, Sara."

Shepard snorted. "May not help, either. I just don't have a lot of faith in psychiatric bullshit, Jiong. You can talk about shit, or you can do something about it. And when talking to the psychologists in the SA, they didn't give off much vibe about really giving a shit about me, so why bother with it?" She shrugged. "I'll come on down to wherever you want to have this talk, but only because so far you haven't been full of shit, not because I believe that psychology works."

Jiong's voice expressed exasperation. "I assure you that psychology works, Shepard, even if you think it doesn't. It works because people have been suffering the same traumas, problems, and issues for hundreds and hundreds of years. What stops it from working is when people refuse to give it a chance."

She stood, glancing at Liara before turning back to the comm panel. "Maybe. I know the shrinks I talked to didn't do a lick of fucking good."

He sighed, his voice sounding tired. "Shepard, military psychologists are there to clear you for duty. I know you thought they probably didn't 'give a shit' about you, but the real truth is simple – they had no way to help you without recommending you be removed from active duty – and for a Z2 from the Penal Legions, that is death. Their hands were tied. They did what little they could, indicating that you were not a sociopath or psychopath, that you felt remorse for your actions, and that you made hard choices because you were able to balance risk and reward, not out of mere crazy."

Liara winced, but could understand why they had done such things. "Perhaps a conversation would be good for you, Sara."

Jiong spoke calmly. "I do not plan to lay you on some couch and ask you about your feelings, Shepard. The very image is ridiculous. Since I'm getting rusty, I was thinking we could spar and talk."

Shepard grinned. "Alright, Jiong, you're on. I'll be in the ship's gym in twenty."

Liara smiled. "Tell Susan I will meet her in our usual location, Commissar Jiong."

"Of course, Lady Liara. I will also alert Doctor Sedanya to help Shepard when the beating is over with."

Shepard snorted back laughter. "Confidence won't stop punches, Jiong."

O-OSaBC-O

By the time Jiong had finished being beaten up by and talking to Shepard, showered, and changed, Susan was also done with Liara. The two commissars met in his quarters, him laying flat on his bed and her perched on the single chair. They had decided to meet to review notes on Shepard and Liara, but the commissar found himself almost unwilling to do so. Susan picked up on his reluctance from his expression.

"You look unhappy, Alfred."

Jiong sighed. "Shepard is rather conflicted. While I was able to extract a great deal of information, and finally get her to react on something approximating a healthy emotional level, there's so much damage and confusion I'm not sure how feasible our job really is."

He pulled up the record of their conversation on his omnitool to review it once more. "And you? Did your conversation go well?"

Susan nodded slowly. "It went smoothly enough, but I don't know that it went 'well'. To be honest, Lady Liara is not much better. If _one _of them was more squared away they might work out better, but as it is I think both of them are suppressing the negatives and worries and trying to cheer the other up. It's sweet, but not really effective. That's not even considering the long term mess."

Jiong nodded. "Shepard told me what she felt comfortable sharing about her relationship. Emotions are something she's still working on. She loves Liara, and likes finding out different ways to express that and explain what love is – both to herself and to Liara. She's grown very well in being able to at least

trust in that feeling. But extracting that was...messy. She's confused and has difficulty explaining how she reacts and emotes. "

Susan gave a faint nod, and Jiong continued. "But the flip-side is still rather dire. Her dependance on Liara has not waned, even a few weeks without melding made her nightmares return with crippling force. She has severe problems sleeping now without Liara around, and is agitated just by her being out of range of whatever bond they have."

Susan winced. "I've spoken to Doctor Sedanya regarding this, and it's liable to be a danger in the long term...but for now, there isn't much we can do. Shepard is already unstable, and if Liara provides stability –"

Jiong shook his head. "Not that simple, unfortunately. There are complications in their relationship. Each tries to be strong for the other, but as a result I think they both feel the other is not opening up fully. Liara has apparently become more reckless in their sexual activity, and it sounds as if their relationship is starting to get a bit fixated on sex. Shepard claims her own libido had faded once she'd indulged a few times, but Liara has only increased in her own desires."

Susan made a face. "Cry me a fucking river. No, seriously." She huffed, flipping her hair behind her shoulder, and Jiong laughed.

"It's a bit more complicated than that, I think. The two of them are trying the best to do what they think the other one wants. For Shepard, she was always ashamed of her inclinations, seeing them as wrong. To see Liara getting into them probably has her thinking she's 'corrupted' her or something along those lines. From her point of view – which simply must be very simplistic, given her lack of any real relationships of this nature – her purpose is to provide love, support, and affection, but she's not the best at showing those yet. So, she fumbles a bit."

Susan nodded. "While my discussions with Liara have already highlighted she sees things in a very asari fashion. She thinks they have time to learn each other, but she can tell Shepard has frustrations and sees offering herself up and molding herself to fit Shepard's needs is what she should be doing. Liara has no problems with the sort of things Shepard likes – as far as I can tell, she enjoys them immensely. As for libido, that isn't even the right word to use, Alfred. Sex is just not a big deal to them, at all. Liara just sees it as something Shepard needs."

Jiong frowned. "I would think this Doctor Sedanya would be of more use in discussing that sort of thing with Lady Liara. There has to be an equivalent to this sort of thing in asari culture..."

She tapped her chin. "There are very, very wide ranges of asari sexual deviancy, but I doubt most asari know about them since that's more the kind of thing outcast asari get into, rather than the ones in the Republics. Sedanya doesn't have any idea of how to deal with that kind of thing. The Clans are _very _restricted in a lot of ways. And honestly? Something like this isn't a topic most asari would touch with a ten foot pole. After all, kink isn't something everyone shares, and all the linking and melds would make you off-putting to other asari if you shared that kind of thing..."

Jiong arched an eyebrow. "I see. Well, that's completely unhelpful. We are the least suited people in the entire ship to be sexual counselors."

Susan laughed at that, and Jiong managed a smile in return. "And the rest of Lady Liara's thinking?"

Susan shrugged. "Disorganized mess, to be honest. She's a goddamned teen, no matter how old she is physically, in terms of emotional development. She crushed _hard _on Shepard, and now she's marrying her, which is pretty much the first time she's put her mind to something and actually gotten it. She had a lot of stuff thrown at her – from her House, the asari government – on top of having her mom go bonkers, and she can't really cope with it all yet. She instead focuses on learning her job and on making sure Shepard is happy."

Susan bit her lip. "I feel sorry for her, in a way. She pushed herself pretty hard in this training because she felt useless to Shepard. That's also why she's probably throwing herself at Shepard in bed, too. She doesn't feel like she can do much to help Shepard's emotional issues except by bonding and being closer to her." She paused. "And she's not that much better in handling what she feels, really, than Shepard is. She doesn't just have to deal with her emotions, but that of Shepard, and since she's the one in control of the bond, she has to try to manage all of that. She doesn't have the skill yet, and probably won't for a long time."

Jiong sighed. "And here I thought asari were masters at that sort of thing. Ah, well."

Susan shrugged. "And going back to the libido thing...eh. Shepard is just not used to looking at it like asari do. It's like brushing your teeth for them. I cannot believe she is _bitching _about it. Ungrateful..." She trailed off in muttering.

Jiong laughed dryly. "I'll pass along your disgruntlement."

Susan arched an eyebrow at him. "You don't feel the same?"

Jiong gave a weak shrug. "I...am just happy she is not as trapped as I. Or you."

Susan nodded and glanced away, and the silence became uncomfortable, until Jiong spoke with forced calm and cheer. "From a strictly performance based viewpoint, everything is going well, though, yes?"

Susan nodded. "I would say so. I dislike reporting on any of this because I'm not sure it has any bearing on their performance as officers. Shepard and Liara are certainly less...well, messed up...than they were when hunting down Saren. And if Shepard can keep unconsciously inspiring loyalty in others, I doubt there will be any performance issues. Their emotional problems and what they get up to in bed is beyond the concerns of the Commissariat."

Jiong shot her a flat look. "There are some in the Guidance Cadre who will disagree with that last statement, but I tend to agree for the most part. In the end, it does not matter what the Cadre thinks. As long as Shepard does her duties efficiently and doesn't raise a ruckus in the media, they are unlikely to truly care about what we fail to include in our reports – and if she fails, I doubt us including it will stave off their wrath."

He closed his eyes. "I have had to do enough distasteful things in my career without going over the specifics of my friend's sex life and emotional problems. Perhaps the Cadre will show...decency."

Susan snorted. "Yeaaaah, because decency is right up there with the other big Commissariat values of Obedience, Doublespeak, and Burning Shit to Death."

Jiong merely sighed, eyes still closed. "There's no need to be catty about it."


	14. Chapter 14 : Captives and Coughing

_**A/N:** Sorry about the delays, as I needed to get feedback from several people regarding this chapter, none of who agreed on it. Some argued it should be scrapped entirely and others suggested it was perfect. I have made a handful of small modifications to fit the feedback. I've had a lot of thoughts about this chapter, as bits of it were originally from as far back as chapter of what it originally contained (more details about SA fleet politics, a clearer explanation of exactly what was refitted, an expansion on SA technology and asari interaction with it) was removed as it didn't advance the story.  
><em>

_That being said, the whole point of the ATTWN arc isn't to advance the story so much as explain what happened and why. For those of you who wanted a bit more context, and who suggested at least one more non-Shepard focused chapter, here it is. It will undoubtedly generate additional questions, but that's why it is written.  
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_The next chapter ends Shepard's training, and then there is a transition piece from Pinnacle to Arcturus. The chapter after that ends Arc I. Those of wishing for !**ACTION**! will have it, those of you dissapointed in the loss of fluff will have to endure :) _

_As always, if you have questions about some of what is referenced here, leave a review or PM and I will answer as fast as I can. :)_

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><p><em><em>'Politics? Shit. That's when a person with two good eyes and perfectly good hearing manages not to fucking see or hear anything they disagree with.'<br>__

__ – Matriarch Aethyta Vasir, 'Oh, Now You Want to Hear My Wisdom?'  
><em>_

* * *

><p><em>DOWNLOADING: Data feed, prime broadcast segment 117<em>

_Manifest dump 84570-core alpha, unclassified_

_This is an official Systems Alliance data capture dump, replication or rebroadcast is restricted._

_Transcript begins, identifiers J: al-Jilani C: Saracino R: Sandemar_

_Keywords: Citadel, geth, Systems Alliance, Shepard, Branson, Cerberus_

BEGIN:

"Westerlund news! All the news, fit or unfit to print, 24/7!"

J: Good afternoon. I'm **Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani**, Westerlund News Network. Today we are interviewing two very special members of our government : Minister of the Interior Charles Saracino, and the leader of the Blue Stars No More political party, Rachel Sandemar. Welcome to the show!

C: Delighted.

R: [nods]

J: Minister Saracino, let me start with you, although this may be something Ms. Sandemar wishes to express her opinion on as well. There's been a great deal of upset and speculation recently over the promotions offered to two of humanity's greatest warriors, Rear Admiral Branson and Major-Commander Shepard. Quite a few people don't feel they are warranted, what is your opinion?

C: In the case of our new High Admiral, I think he is quite fitted to the position. I've never been sold on the military insistence that the person best suited to lead the Admiralty should be someone who hasn't been on the front lines in fifteen years. Rear Admiral Branson has demonstrated he has the leadership and vision to guide our fleet, and a lack of rank merely means he's closer in perspective to our brave service-people.

C: [Pauses, then shrugs] As for Major-Commander Shepard, I think and have always thought the woman is a disgrace. We'll leave aside her sordid past, the fact that she gets most of her men killed in her commands, and the fact that she spends the majority of her time consorting with aliens. My biggest problem with the Butcher is that she's being promoted out of a role she is finally good at – killing the enemies of humanity – and into something she has no skills in. Why would you do that...except as a quid pro quo. Shepard knows something, or found out something, and the SA is trying to keep her quiet! That's why all this hullaboo.

J: A curious point, to be sure. There are more than a few who have suggested that Shepard is hardly suited for large-scale command, given her past history and lack of command training. Others are highly offended she has been raised to the ranks of the nobility. Do you have any thoughts on these issues?

C: [scratches chin] Let's take the second part first, shall we? I'm not real big on nobility. They do have a useful function in our governance, but the less involved they are the better things are going. The fact that they made the Butcher a noble is a good laugh. She has no background in it, she is completely uneducated, and to top it all off, rumor says she's sterile. To me, it's a bribe mixed with a backhanded joke. They know she can't really do anything with the position, but they can make happy noises about how the common man can rise.

This at the same time the cost to move to class II citizen has jumped another six percent.

As far as her command? Like I said, it's nonsense. The woman knows about as much in regards to commanding that kind of force as I do. We're not being told something, and I hate it when my taxpayer credits get up and go without telling me why they got up and went.

J: [laughter] Very apt points. Ms. Sandemar, do you have any thoughts on these issues?

R: Yes, thank you. I don't want to be disrespectful to anyone, but I am not happy with either of these two being rewarded for anything. Shepard is a failure. She was on Eden Prime and didn't stop the deaths of our colonists and servicemen. She was on Feros and didn't stop the destruction of our colony and a corporate enclave. She went to Noveria and the place became a bloodbath, and her actions at the Citadel – ordering Admiral Hackett to save the Council Fleet – cost us thousands of human lives. No one has explained why they are giving her a battle-group, much less when she will be held accountable for the all the lives she's ruined or ended.

R: [folds arms] As for Branson, until he pulls our military back from gross adventuring and focuses on demilitarizing the Systems Alliance, he's not any better.

J: [arches an eyebrow] Given that if we had a smaller military, the geth would have destroyed everything on Terra Nova, how can you justify the position of Blue Stars No More?

R: We wouldn't have had any losses if we didn't have our fleet scattered all over creation. If people don't love the SA, and if they decide to run out to colonies to get away from it, then they should be left to fend for themselves. Our position hasn't changed – if we disengage from the Citadel and pull back to our core colonies, then there is no reason for anyone to bother us and force our soldiers to die. We'd have more than enough ships already to protect what we have.

C: With all due respect, that is simply not feasible. While Terra Firma agrees that useless expansionism and the size of our fleet are both out of control, the answer isn't to let the aliens dominate the galaxy. Letting the aliens surround us just makes us vulnerable. Since we've been shanghaied into having a place on the Council, we should have their military safeguard our outlying colonies while we clean up our own forces.

R: The problem with that answer, Mr. Saracino, is that the militarist thugs are going to use it for their own ends. I know you're opposed to anything that weakens humanity – but us throwing money and lives at this issue isn't going to magically stop the alien domination of the galaxy – they already do! We need to rethink and retrench, and stop getting our service-people killed.

J: There are those who suggest the geth threat is not over – turian forces fought a fierce battle yesterday near the border of their space with a large force of geth. Given that both TF and BSNM are pushing for military draw downs and reductions, how do you respond to the criticism leveled by the NDP, namely that without a stronger military we would be at risk from batarian aggression?

R: I don't believe that. Again, if we simply pull back from the Traverse and the Verge, which we can't protect anyway, we will have far fewer military deaths and losses. I don't really care about the stupid wildcatters – they don't contribute to the SA

C: I'd like to point out that when Cerberus was active, it was doing a fine job of protecting those colonies, letting our military focus on other issues. I think the NDP is fishing for trouble, using the scare tactics of batarian slavers to frighten people, but let's be honest. Batarian technology is barely on par with our own, and much of it is crumbling due to the embargo.

J: And in regards to Cerberus, there remains a great deal of controversy over that group. Most shockingly, the fall of the Northstar party, which was revealed to mostly be a Cerberus front. You alone have not changed your position on Cerberus, Minister – why is that?

C: To a point I have. I remain unconvinced by Shepard's video 'evidence' of atrocities – by the time independent media got to the site, it was swarmed by both AIS and aliens, who could have planted any sorts of atrocity onto Cerberus. And I find it really curious that if they were such a threat, neither the AIS or the Commissars ever managed to shut them down.

C: [Folds arms] I'd be a lot more swayed – or concerned – if the other species weren't doing equally reprehensible acts.

J: The main question on everyone's mind right now is exactly what will happen in the upcoming March primaries for the Senate, since those elections only happen once a decade. The Court of Lords will be assembling to put together the slates next week, and it's difficult to determine what the outcome will be. Rumor suggests, however, that they are more alien-friendly than they were ten years ago. How will this make things difficult for the current administration?

C: [smiles] Since the Senate is more occupied with diplomacy than the House is, I would surmise that they will have to deal with reality, no matter how 'alien-friendly' their membership may be. I don't think it will affect things very much.

J: There is also anticipation from our asari citizens about the possibility of an asari Senator...

C: [nods] Yes, that's probably going to happen. Terra Firma has always said Humanity First, and that certainly hasn't changed. But TF has also taken a good hard look at the asari citizenship. Unlike the other aliens who live in our space, the asari are at least trying to fit into human norms and values, instead of that godless whore culture they come from. Most of them are not welcome back home, and they don't have anywhere else to go.

C: [rubs chin] I'm not wild about the idea, I won't lie. But I'm not going to try to block it, and neither is TF. We're not bigots, and we're more than happy to wait and see.

J: Ms. Sandemar?

R: I don't have any problems with them, since most of them take the long view that violence and militarism is bad.

J: Both of your parties have come under sharp fire in recent days. In particular, a large number of military people, both enlisted and officers, were on the ANN recently blaming both TF and BSNM for defense cuts that resulted in many SA casualties at Terra Nova. And the recent demonstrations and counter-pickets of BSNM rallies has been rapidly increasing in the past few weeks. Ms. Sandemar, could you comment on this?

R: [grimaces] There will always be someone too blind to face reality, Ms. Al-Jilani. We're not going to compromise what we believe simply because others disagree.

J: The attacks on Eden Prime and Feros, and the devastation at Terra Nova, would seem to be more than 'disagreement',

R: And? The bottom line doesn't change. BSNM doesn't care about anything but stopping our families from being murdered by the poor decision making of our government and the military. Because that is more important than profits, or the whim of the nobles, or the desires of the corporations. What happened on Eden Prime and Feros wouldn't have changed even if we had three times as many ships. But the people who died there will be used as excuse for the SA to spend more money on wild militaristic adventuring.

J: That's all the time we have for now, but stay tuned for our contact segment, where we take live chat from the extranet and questions for Minister Saracino.

O-ATTWN-O

Okeer awoke to pain, an unusual sensation for him to experience. He found himself still clothed, but his partial armor had been stripped, and his wounds only hastily patched with what felt like cheap medigel.

He glanced around, finding himself laying on a hard metal floor, in what was obviously some kind of containment cell. Three stark metallic walls contained him, each thickly armored. A kinetic barrier sealed the open side of the cell, and beyond it lay a krogan-sized stasis pod of white metal, cracked open.

He quickly checked himself for weapons, finding his holdouts and omnitool removed. That was of lesser concern than the fact that his labs were smashed and all of his research lost. He could of course begin again, but the loss of notes, samples and most of all the genetic data accumulated over centuries was a serious setback.

He had backed up some of his data in various caches, but with the CDEM in the hands of the damnable Eclipse, he'd not stayed on Tuchanka, instead heading for what he believed to be the safety of Saren's tiny colony of indoctrinated turians. There, he'd expected to be undisturbed for at least the few weeks it would have taken to finalize his research.

He'd had no reason to prepare for a full out assault.

The fact that he had recognized the force coming for him had left him little time to attempt to salvage anything, and he had not bothered, instead hoping to leave clues to his fate. He'd been able to leave only two such clues: a hasty message to Ylana he'd hurled behind his desk to conceal it, and the spilled blood of the giant, heavy cybernetically adjusted salarian who'd actually beaten him down like a child in close combat.

Given the Shadow Broker's well known penchant for careful attention to detail, he doubted either bit of evidence had survived. Ylana was expecting him to come to her location; it would be some time before she sent a force to see if he was alive. By then, the Hierarchy might have already moved in. Even if she did find it, he had no real clues as to the size of her forces, and assaulting the Shadow Broker was simply impossible in any case. His only real hope was that Ylana would attempt to negotiate his release.

Given the very long life he'd had, the idea of it suddenly ending was less frightening than he expected.

He gingerly stood, shaking off the nausea and weakness of long-term stasis, and glanced around again at his location. He could see very little of the corridor beyond, only the bulk of the stasis pod and the black-paneled corridors that lead off to the right.

Given that his cell was of a size to contain krogan, he doubted he would be able to beat down the kinetic barrier manually. Even as he contemplated the chances, however, he heard slow, heavy footfalls, punctuated by a hard tapping noise.

A black-cloaked figure came into view, leaning on an equally dark cane. Clearly turian, it was occluded in plates of black armor where the cloak gaped open, and the hood was lit dimly from within by a single glowing red cybernetic eye, illuminating a faint tracery of red facial paint and horrible scars.

The figure came to a slow halt in front of the cell, and Okeer could literally hear the machinery inside the turian clicking and humming along, the slow rasp of artificial lungs and pumps. The turian stood silently, as if waiting for something, then merely tapped the cane once more, as if to attract attention with the hollow booming noise it made against the floor.

Okeer suppressed a sigh. _Turian melodrama._

The turian's voice was a low, baritone rasp, whispery and cold. "Ganar Okeer, eldest of the krogan. We require some information that you possess."

Okeer gave a contemptuous exhalation. "And you must be Tetrimus, the so-called Mouth of the Shadow Broker. I do not care for what you or your master wish, turian. You have ruined my work, and for that I would rather die than cooperate with you."

Tetrimus sighed. "We do not have time for your intransigence, Doctor. We wish to speak with the Collectors, and you have a connection to them. You will divulge this."

Okeer gave a guffaw of amused, cultured laughter. "I see. And _who_ exactly told you that I could get in contact with the Collectors, mm?"

Tetrimus shook his head. "I am asking the questions. Comply and we may spare you."

Okeer sighed. "Turian, you were never accounted as stupid in the stories I have heard of you, so I am surprised at this turn of events. First, whoever told you such a thing is a fool and a liar. The only communication I was able to make with the Collectors was through the aegis of Benezia's people, with whom I had a mutually beneficial deal. In fact, if not for your assault upon my works, I would have already departed to form my first connection with them – something that is impossible now."

The krogan folded his arms. "Second, I know full well how the Broker operates. You do not use such force as you unleashed upon me unless pressed or reacting to betrayal, and you leave no one alive to tell tales in any event. So, please, spare me your idiot threats. I have no chance of leaving this cell alive, regardless of my cooperation with you, and it amuses me to instead deny you whatever it is that you wish."

Tetrimus said nothing, merely gazing at the krogan for long seconds, before turning away without another word. Okeer watched him go, rubbing his muzzle in thought, listening to his retreating footfalls and the tap of the cane.

At least the turian wasn't stupid enough to try torture. His mind turned instead to how he'd gotten in this predicament in the first place.

The only people who would have known about Okeer's intentions in meeting with the Collectors directly were Benezia's people – and possibly the Shifter. But it made little sense for the Broker and the Shifter to save his life on the Citadel and aid him in getting away, only to double cross him later. And he doubted Ylana had sold him out, as there was no benefit to her in such an act.

That implied a third party, someone with deep knowledge of Saren and Benezia's plans, but who was not allied with them. Possibly the Broker had captured geth, or maybe Cerberus operatives,who were for some reason aware of his activities. He was not sure how loosely Saren had held his association with him, and it was likely that the cunning Spectre had laid plans in case Okeer had turned on him.

In the long view, who had sold him out was irrelevant. The only things left for Okeer to determine was exactly how to get out of this mess. He spent the next hour contemplating his plans, assuming that he somehow got out of what looked like certain death, before the turian returned. This time the turian was accompanied by a floating omni-sphere, which illuminated the area in golden light as it bobbed alongside the turian biotic.

Once again, Tetrimus came to a stop, tapping the drone once. "He is here, sir, the krogan."

The voice that issued from the drone was clearly modulated, but there was a growling power behind the voice, and the words, one that immediately caught Okeer's attention.

"I rarely conduct business myself, but this situation requires a more direct approach. I am the Shadow Broker."

Okeer's eyes narrowed. "I was under the general impression that you did not communicate directly with your … clients."

"You are not a client. At best, you are a possible asset – at worst, a loose end. It will be up to you and what you tell me to determine which of these two paths I send you down."

Okeer sneered. "I have little trust in your words, Broker. You are not known for leaving loose ends, as you just referred to me as."

The voice rumbled. "Perhaps. But I see things that others do not, from a perspective that is unique. It is vital that we speak with or establish communication with the Collectors. The only possible conduit to such seems to be through you, and from you to whichever of Benezia's subordinates has contact with them. Should that require leaving you alive, then as long as you accede to my desires, your life will not be threatened."

Okeer folded his arms, glaring at the drone. "Your desires mean nothing to me. The actions you undertook to capture me destroyed the very research the Collectors were interested in, leaving them no reason to bother contacting me."

The voice grew agitated. "Explain."

Okeer's muzzle twisted. "I have nothing better to do, and perhaps you will execute your incompetent minions once you learn the tale. I provided Saren with krogan for experimentation, in return for certain genetic samples. These samples were used to attempt to modify the genophage's secondary effects."

The drone hovered. "I fail to see the connection to the Collectors. My time is valuable."

Okeer laughed. "It is related. The research was lengthy and meticulous. Towards the end of the saga of Saren, he and Benezia promised me access to certain materials that would aid my goals, materials provided by the Collectors. While on the Citadel when Benezia attacked, I actually met briefly with two of them, who provided me with scans of a modified krogan."

He folded his arms. "After the Citadel was reclaimed, I fled to continue my work. Benezia's aide, Ylana, reached out to me, hoping to continue her mistress' work. I agreed to help her if she could contact the Collectors for more data or a meeting."

Okeer exhaled, grimacing. "Ylana informed me that they would agree to meet if I had something of value to offer in trade, so I gathered together several infertile females and began the process to bypass the genophage. I figured that would get their interest."

At this, Tetrimus started. "You can do that?"

Okeer sneered, his voice dismissive. "Salarian design of the genophage was based on the krogan I gave to them, and updated periodically. As a result, I am fully aware of how the genophage works. I discovered long ago how to use certain enzymatic reactions to create a secondary protein shell over the malformed progression sites the genophage uses to induce miscarriages. It is how I have kept the Ganar clan in numbers."

The voice of the Broker was almost soft. "And yet you have never shared such with the krogan."

Okeer's sneer widened. "The krogan are too stupid to understand the salarians saved them. Krogan breeding rates would have led to us to conflict, and the salarians were trying to come up with a genetic alteration to genocide the krogan. My answer gave them an alternative, reducing birth rates to what they would have been on Tuchanka without modern medicine."

Okeer shook his head. "Curing my race of this mercy is stupid and unworkable, and has never been my goal. A cure does nothing for the krogan, and until shared suffering and misery breaks their spirit, will never be offered. What I want is to change the fundamental nature of the krogan...and that is why I needed the Collectors."

The Broker's voice sounded again. "And so you made your deal with this Ylana..."

Okeer glared. "Yes. And I was attempting to work with the idea the Collectors gave me, in order to pique their interest, when your servants attacked, killing my only subordinate who understood my work, wrecking my research and destroying my gift. It will take unknown years to get back to where I was."

The Broker's drone was silent for long seconds, then spoke. "And where is this Ylana?"

Okeer laughed. "I have no idea. I was supposed to meet with her at a system of her choosing, but given that the system in question has no habitable planets, I doubt it is her actual base of operations. Ylana did not entirely trust me, after all."

The drone whirled in place for a second. "Something does not fit."

Tetrimus shrugged. "From what little we know, the Collectors have been monitoring genetic drift in the species of the galaxy for more than five thousand years. Given their technology level, prior to that it would have been simple for them to perform direct abductions to the same ends."

The voice from the drone growled. "Which fails to explain what they want with a krogan geneticist." The drone bobbed in the air. "Tetrimus, have our guest fed while we consider our next course of action." The drone flew down the corridor, and Tetrimus sighed.

Okeer was baffled by the short conversation, and more by the Broker's questions. As he watched the turian slowly hobble away, tapping something on his omnitool, he began to wonder exactly why the Broker wanted to contact the Collectors so badly.

O-ATTWN-O

The smooth, cold stone arches of the Temple of Athame Everlasting gleamed softly in the moonlight, the ancient carvings of moon, star, and sun over the great doorway as sharp and precise as they were tens of thousands of years ago.

Matriarch Aethyta had not been to a formal meeting of the Council of Matriarchs in over a century, although she had talked to them informally several times. Having to appear in person was either an insult or a compliment, and she was too wave-damned tired to figure out which it might be.

As usual, the place was locked down hard – commandos everywhere, gunships in patrol patterns, and weapons emplacements and snipers dug in just out of sight. The four commandos escorting her were the Temple's own force, the Sisterhood of the Sun, the personal guard of the High Solarch. There was a message there too, but Aethyta didn't care for it.

The doors to the Temple, gigantic planks of ancient agnar wood stiffened with kinetic barriers and nano-infused carbon steel, swung open silently, moved by two acolytes with their biotics. The huge cathedral beyond was the usual – a giant dome, with niches off to the side set with strange and arcane artifacts, and the giant statue of Athame, her features so heavy stylized that her crests were one solid mass, staring down. The veil over her features and the heavy armor and robes of the statue gave it a militant, expectant mien.

Heavy pillars, carved with thousands of tiny inscriptions of faith, formed a wide circle around the center of the Temple, given over to the Altar of the Sun, the ritual resting place for the Sword and Shield of Athame. The center of the chamber – normally where the High Priestess of the Sun preached from – had been cleared, with thirty chairs set into a wide semicircle and a small standing platform in their midst.

Aethyta adjusted her shawl and robes, and firming her jaw, marched directly to the platform, stepping atop it and folding her arms defiantly.

Thirty ancient faces stared back at her, a bewildering array of facial markings and colors from the blue of the sea-coast to the purples of the mountains. The shapes on the shawls decried their houses – the shantha, the sword, the boat, the yul hawk, the relli snake. A dazzling array of colors decorated each matriarch, hands resting casually on warp swords or fixed in gestures of siari patience and expectation.

In the background, the pacing forms of barely-clothed war priestesses could be seen, each one trailed by a tech-commando searching out listening devices or other technological trickery. As she stood upon the platform, four more such priestesses raised their hands, erecting a bubble of kinetic energy over the group, the barrier field nullifying vibrations and sounds outside of its radius.

The Council of Matriarchs was in session.

She glanced at her sister, Uthana, now the Matriarch of the Vasir, who gave her a single arch nod, and then over to her oldest friend, Matriarch Jenta Vabo, who shot her a sour grin. With a huff, she straightened and fixed her gaze dead into that of the center of the assembly.

Queen Matriarch Thana T'Armal.

Aethyta waited several seconds before speaking. "Well, I'm here. I doubt you wanted to see me any more than I wanted to see you, so let's get this over with."

There were several exasperated huffs and offended sneers, but more than one snicker or smirk. Matriarch Thana glanced around the circle, silencing them, then spoke.

"You have been called forth to explain the actions of your daughter, and the … missive … you have brought of her changed allegiances."

To her right, the hard features of Matriarch Iasela T'Vaan twisted."She has decided to join the other outcasts in the Systems Alliance. Such is worrisome when the clanless do so, and irritating when a Clan member breaks their sacred trusts, but for a ranking member of the Thirty to do so is intolerable."

Aethyta sneered at her. "Who let you in here, Iasela? Isn't your trampy little niece Shaltha supposed to be taking over soon?"

Iasela glared. "She is not … mature enough for this meeting, but then again neither are you. Explain why your offspring embarrasses us all."

Aethyta's sneer deepened. "Fucking spare me. None of you wanted her around because Benezia and I had the poor taste to do in public what the rest of you clowns have done in private. Because she's a pure-blood, you would have never let her take her birthright. Now she's gone and you're still fucking complaining?"

Iasela folded her arms. "What is this pack of shatha droppings? Of course we can't have a wave-damned pureblood in charge of a House of the Thirty. We've kept the purebloods we have out of sight, letting them act in ways that don't attract attention! Your fool stunt ended up causing massive backlash from the clanless who wanted to experiment with the old ways. The Exodus can be laid at _your feet."_

Aethyta tapped a fingernail hard against the hilt of her warp sword in irritation. "You wanna blame me for the fact your goddess-damned social engineering fuckery didn't work? Because Benezia and I had a kid?"

Matriarch Uressa made a delicate and elaborate version of the sign of siari agreement. "Beloved Aethyta, you of all people must know others of the Thirty do not do such things with the accorded heir to the Houses. I believe that if you and our fallen friend Benezia had simply borne Liara, even as the firstborne, no one would have gainsaid your acts. But Benezia's decision to set Liara as the chatelaine, to shape her as the heir, and to openly announce both her status as pureblood and her state as heir was perhaps ...unwise."

The beautiful asari matriarch sighed almost woefully. "Sadly, the fact that she is still matria-desginate of House T'Soni is also concern. There is a troubling amount of unrest in the outer colonies already, and if she should return to lead House T'Soni, the Exodus might become more pronounced."

Matriarch Suliasa snorted. "Little Wing knew what she was doing as soon as she decided to go along with this plan Shepard cooked up. I tried to get the human to make sure Liara knew what she was giving up, but the bottom line is that I can't just hand her back the House if she shows up now. She's joined their military and sworn oaths. That's... tied my hands. Her ever leading our House now is not a thing that can happen unless she completely breaks ties with the humans, as sad as I am to say it."

Aethyta shrugged. "Like she wants to come back here anyway."

Suliasa scowled blackly at Aethyta. "She wasn't opposed to the idea earlier. Of course, Goddess knows what sort of lies and garbage you've filled her head with."

Matriarch Uthana Vasir hissed. "While my sister may or may not have made critical errors in her past that lead to her being removed as House Matriarch, that is no excuse to attack her. She was the only one of us with the bravery to face Benezia in person, aside from Liara. Matriarch Suliasa says the girl is gone for good, so what is the concern here?"

Matriarch Thana exhaled. "The concern is that the Error that lead to Trellani's … abandonment may be at work here. It makes little sense for Liara to cast aside her House and all the power of a Matria for a single human female."

Murmurs followed this statement. The ugly and dark truth about the outcast Matriarch Trellani had shaken them all. The insane asari was murdering members of the Thirty, selling off their secrets and plotting their downfall.

Aethyta shook her head. "No. I did a careful and searching link to Liara right after Benezia's death, while we were in the hospital. Her main reason for wanting to leave _was_ to be with her bondmate, her secondary reason was that she felt outcast. Trellani is not even a name she knows save by distant rumor."

Matriarch Thesin Devir snorted. "She abandoned her birthright for a human woman?"

Aethyta snarled. "No, Devir. She abandoned a Family that treated her like garbage for a woman who valued and loved her. She abandoned a government that wanted her hounded by the Justicars and hung out to the tides for the mistakes of a brainwashed and dominated victim for one that sees her as valuable and heroic. Most of all she abandoned a people she never got! She _didn't fit in_. She wasn't any good at being one of us, maybe because of the way she grew up."

Aethyta folded her arms. "This entire fucking mess can be laid at my feet if you like. I'm a bad aithntar, a bad bondmate, and I was a shitty House Matriarch. But Liara isn't your concern anymore, unless you are literally willing to start a war over satisfying the baying of a pack of tide-damned _clanless_."

More murmuring broke out at that, subtle whispers and more than one quick joining of hands for a split-second meld-discussion. The only one to speak was the elderly Matriarch Yulsanis T'Purice, her voice almost rough with age.

"It is well and good to say that this girl-child is no more a threat. But the results are worse. The Exodus will see her as one of the Thirty who has turned from the wisdom of the Council of Matriarchs just as they have, and flock to her for leadership. The humans have, after all, made this Shepard person one of their own nobles – are we to believe this isn't in reaction to their bonding? The humans will use her to lead the Exodus asari in their own space, and their thinking cannot be allowed back into the Republic."

Aethyta saw where this was headed, and bit her tongue. The Exodus was certainly a mess, the backlash of millions of asari who didn't fit in with the greater culture, who didn't want to be paired with turians or salarians or hanar. They wanted humans, who looked like them and who seemed by divine design to be partners, or more likely wanted to bond and have children with other asari.

Unfortunately, the asari were learning that certain aspects of human culture clashed very hard with asari culture. The human drive for independence, individuality, and aggressive competition disrupted asari communal values, and threatened the absolute control over the asari that the Thirty had maintained for years. The original answer to this problem was to ship the asari affected by such off to the Systems Alliance.

That had backfired spectacularly – what was supposed to be perhaps ten or fifteen thousand outcasts had swelled to nineteen million, with millions more seeking to apply for SA citizenship. The problem wasn't the actual numbers, per se. Given the asari population, the result wasn't even a percent of the population.

Nor was the problem merely contact with humans. Tens of millions of asari had melded or linked with humans with no ill effects.

The problem was bonds, as many asari bonded to humans … changed. They became less willing to endure the social maneuvering, less willing to engage in free-for-all sexual exchanges, less understanding of the viewpoints of others. Not all asari fell to this, but enough did that the Thirty feared such viewpoints – and the trouble they caused – becoming widespread.

With no other choices, the Thirty had begun to seal off the flow of such asari, while taking strong lines with the SA to ensure their asari citizens never came back into asari space. That had only been partially successful, and the Exodus had grown in size.

But so far it was mostly clanless, with a tiny handful of Clan members participating. Only a few Lesser house members had taken citizenships in the SA, and most of those were noble marriages. No member of the Thirty had ever done such.

Aethyta finally sighed and shrugged. "Liara may well end up being a figure they expect leadership from, but they won't get it. She doesn't connect very well with them, and she hates the idea of being forced into some kind of role by circumstances. I'll let her know that getting involved with them is not a good idea, if that will help."

The murmurs continued, until a hand motion from Matriarch Thana silenced the Hall.

"If you assure us that Liara has not fallen to the ideals of Trellani nor the Exodus, then there is little we can do to halt this … rebellion of your daughter. But make her aware that she will not be granted the right of return. By avoiding the traditional methods, by turning aside the Question, and by taking a stand with her human bondmate, she has effectively removed herself from the placement as chatelaine of House T'Soni."

Matriarch Suliasa folded her arms, sighing unhappily. "I will agree...but with protest. She is _young_ and without her mother, Matriarch Thana. In a century she could deeply regret this act."

Matriarch Iasela sneered. "In a century she will still be a pureblood, Matriarch Suliasa."

Aethyta made a disgusted nod. "Fine, not like she will give a damn. Are you clowns going to rein in the Justicars now?"

Matriarch Thana leaned back in her seat. "Mistress Layana has already been informed. For now, the issue is … resolved. The official word given out to the media has been that Benezia was led astray, that she may have been mentally and emotionally compromised, and that her daughter avenged her crimes upon her body. The recording from the Citadel was edited before it was displayed for public viewing, and stops at Liara overpowering Benezia and sending her to the ground."

Aethyta nodded. "If that's all, I have to get moving in order to make it back to human space with a few guests."

Matriarch Thana gave a sign to the four war priestesses, who let the kinetic bubble fall. "Then our business is completed. Aethyta, a moment, if you will."

The other matriarchs rose gracefully and departed, while Aethyta stepped up to stand in front of the T'Armal leader. "Yeah?"

Thana sighed. "I dislike the direction your daughter moves in. Many will simply not believe the tale of the wayward daughter."

Aethyta shrugged. "They don't have to believe it. I'm sure it's hard to get through your crest that someone is actually, honestly not interested in this relli-nest of backstabbing and gossip, but there you go."

The asari queen made a throwing away motion with her hands. "Not many outside of an echas novel would throw way a fortune and a life of luxury to take up service with an alien military."

Aethyta gave a slow smirk. "You remember your first really hard meld, where you just couldn't stop flaring?"

Matriarch Thana nodded. "Of course, I would think every asari does."

Aethyta nodded in return. "Liara's first was Shepard, and she hadn't linked or melded with anyone else. And they didn't just bond, they pretty much soulforged the first time."

The other matriarch took a sharp indrawn breath. "That is incredibly stupid and risky for a maiden barely a century old."

Aethyta shrugged. "I agree, but what's done is done. Liara's not even going to think of coming back until Shepard's dead and buried, and if she can survive fucking all the shit already thrown at her, that's likely to be a while. By that time, the Exodus will either be a done deal, or you'll have more important things to think about."

The T'Armal matriarch gave a sour nod to this. "As you say, what's done is indeed done. Grant her my best wishes on a happy and long-lived bonding, and impress on her the need for circumspection."

Aethyta rolled her eyes. "Coming from me, that should be a hoot. You sending someone to observe the ceremony?"

Thana made a motion of siari negation. "Manifestly not. It would send the wrong message. I have no idea why Uressa is going, but one member of the House of Storms should be enough honor for such an event."

Aethyta straightened her shawl. "Fine, then." She turned to leave, and Thana smiled.

"One more thing, Matriarch Aethyta. Given your strained relationship with House Vasir, your duties in watching my daughter on Omega can be … set aside for now. Monitor Liara on behalf of the Council of Matriarchs." Her voice hardened. "And while I pray to Athame that it should never come to pass, should Liara turn to the ways of Benezia, or Trellani, you will have to handle the situation."

Aethyta gave the other asari an icy, hateful look before giving a single stiff nod. "That will never fucking happen, but I'll do it, if only so you stupid fools can pay my expenses on Arcturus or wherever she ends up."

Thana rose from her seat, regal and cool. "And we will be happy to pay such a pittance for security and caution. Go with the grace of our Goddess, and fair and pleasant travels, Aethyta."

Aethyta suppressed yet another derisive snort in favor of simply departing. Thana watched her, and after a moment the graceful form of Uressa T'Shora emerged from the shadows, her features saddened.

She carefully touched Thana's shoulder, offering a small and gentle smile. "This anger is unlike you, Sea Lily. Liara's choices are her own, and she is not Aleena."

Thana's jaw tightened, and she exhaled. "I know that, Uressa. That doesn't make her acts any more easy to explain, or tolerable. And it doesn't help that you are going to participate in this farce."

The beautiful asari matriarch's smile faltered only slightly. "I am not going to ostracize her simply to accede to the wishes and beliefs of others when she has done nothing wrong. Liara is brave, she is likely hurt badly by the loss of her mother, and she will feel alone and unwanted by her own people. None of us deserve that, when they have committed no crime save that of being the person they are."

Thana made a gesture of siari separation in jerky, angry movements. "And the impression it gives others? Is that of no importance?"

Uressa leaned against her, giving her a gentle, sisterly kiss of affection, and shook her head. "I will not darken myself with anger and pain, lovely Thana. We are each given only a few spans of time to find our heart's ease. I will not poison Liara's one day of grace and love with political maneuvering and hateful words."

A note of steel entered the beautiful asari's voice. "Nor will I stand aside and let others suffer when I can stop it, any more than I would let the humans continue to suffer at turian claws. I have held my tongue on the evil we have let the quarians suffer, and the krogan, and the drell – I can only close my eyes so many times to that which brings only pain before wishing to say 'no more'".

Thana slumped, turning away. "You are a better follower of Athame than I, then."

Uressa's blue eyes sought out the face of the Goddess, before shrugging. "I miss Ynnal T'Vaan. We are unbalanced without her wisdom. She warned us years ago Benezia was … off, and we did not listen."

Uressa turned to leave, trailing fingers along Thana's arm before breaking contact. As she walked into the dark shadows of the Temple, Thana was left all alone, silhouetted by the shifting luminance of the Temple, lost in thought.

O-ATTWN-O

Tali coughed weakly. She felt as if someone had struck her in the head with a mallet, even though she knew that was just her system compensating for her taking off her suit a few hours earlier. The office she sat in felt stuffy and tight, and every once in a while she felt nauseated, although thankfully she hadn't yet vomited.

She was really hoping that wouldn't happen.

She sighed, trying to concentrate on the manual on the desk in her office, before her vision blurred and swam and she coughed again. Pushing the book away in disgust, she triggered yet another dose of anti-nausea drugs and sat back, trying to get her head to stop spinning.

The past few hours had been a blurred mess of emotions and reactions. Taking Kiala's advice to heart, she'd decided she needed to get used to the idea of not being in the suit, in a safe clean environment, before she could do anything else. According to Kiala, just doing so would make her feel sick, since the suit isolated her body for so long that even the low-level pathogens found in a sterilized clean room would affect her. Getting used to such low-level pathogens was the very first step she had to overcome.

She'd decided to hold off on taking off her suit and dealing with the shock of that until after they had dealt with Ahern's final test, and she was very glad she'd been smart enough to do that. Fighting that bosh'tet while dizzy and sick would have ended badly. After she'd recovered from her minor injuries, she'd decided to do it Saturday night, since the crew would be occupied in their parties celebrating the end of the First Contact War.

The clean room Shepard had authorized for her was a conversion of one of the escape pod launch cradles. Walls had been extended around the external bulkhead of the corridor, forming a primary airlock with a series of sterilization routines. An inner airlock door lead to where the escape pod would normally be, which had been removed and walls installed to form two fairly large rooms, the first about ten feet by eight feet, the second much smaller. The second room contained the equipment and DETA filtration systems that kept the inner clean room sterile at all times.

The floor, ceiling and bulkheads were all spray-coated with a thin layer of reactive foam, which bonded to the surfaces and formed a thin, impermeable barrier hostile to microbial life. The air in the room was cycled through the second room, UV sterilized, then passed through six layers of DETA filtration before coming back in. The room itself had a single locker in one corner, a low slung locker along the far wall labeled 'MED', a single table on the wall nearest the door. A comm panel sat next to a full length mirror on the same wall.

And much to Tali's embarrassment, a plastic-sheeted bed was set to the left side of the room.

She'd been mortified to see that, wondering what Shepard thought she wanted a clean room for exactly (even if, to be honest with herself, that's _exactly _what she wanted it for … eventually.) A conversation with Doctor Sedanya had calmed her down, though.

"The medical facilities in the main medbay are simply not good enough for you if you're seriously hurt. There's no positive air filtration, and while the diagnostic and disinfection routines are good, they're adapted for humans, not quarians. Since we're setting up a clean room anyway, we decided it was best to set up a medical trauma section just for you and keep you isolated from other pathogens."

True to her word, the under-section of the bed had shelving containing medical equipment and a spare medical envirosuit. There were hooks and mountings on the wall for medical sensors and equipment, the low locker along the far wall full of scanners and monitoring equipment she didn't understand.

Taking off her suit had been something very difficult for her to do. On the Normandy, she'd only had to do so once, using the airlock after heavy sterilization cycles to move from her old Flotilla-issued suit to the new suit Shepard had commissioned for her. The heavier materials and higher quality of the Colossus suit, along with its extra features, had become comfortable over the months she'd worn it, along with all the customization she'd done to it.

Taking her old suit off in the airlock had been nerve-wracking, but she'd done it knowing she would be putting on a new suit immediately.

She'd been without a suit twice more in her hospital stays, but that was different, as they put her in isolation units and she'd had on a body-suit in any case. Along with the heavy and sterile plastic sheeting, and the bulky envirosuits of the quarian medics, she'd felt exposed but not naked.

This time, Kiala said she should stay naked for at least three hours, to get used to the idea of being out of the suits. On the Flotilla, clean rooms were only let out for couples engaging in intercourse, and only for an hour at the most. Given the expense of sterilization equipment and filters, they had to be frugal in their use.

The idea of having her own personal clean room to use whenever, and for as long as she liked, was certainly entrancing. But getting used to actually using it was daunting. Still, she knew she had to get used to it, so she'd taken her suit off. She'd cringed as she'd removed each piece this time, being careful to lay them out on the table in the order she took them off in.

Seeing her pale skin had not been as shocking as she had expected, and she figured she'd gotten used to it in the hospital. The first hour she had the suit off she'd crawled into the bed, pulling the thick plastic sheeting up to her chin, oddly cold and vulnerable feeling. She'd actually dozed off, and woken up coughing and feeling dizzy an hour later. She'd spent another hour with the suit off before sterilizing it and herself and putting it back on,

Now she was back at work, or at least trying to work, and was wracked with coughing, nausea, spasms and the occasional blurred vision.

It wasn't as bad as she'd feared, but it was still worse than she'd felt after Noveria.

Kiala had explained that she would always feel a little sick after taking off her suit. In an environment without any dextro-compatible germs, like the Kazan, the risk was that levo-compatible bacteria would try to set up shop in her body, and while they would eventually die out, the incompatible waste products they produced would cause allergic reactions. Eventually she would get used to it, though.

That had gotten her to thinking why more quarians in the Flotilla didn't slowly try to wean themselves off their suits. Outcasts, sadly, had no choices but to try, given their surroundings were constantly bathed in germs and foreign substances. Many of them sickened and died, but many more survived. They still needed the suit to avoid being completely overwhelmed, but at least a few quarians could keep the suit off for hours with little ill effect.

Her unwitting discovery of quarian porn on the extranet when looking for knowledge on human-quarian intersexuality had put paid to the idea that a quarian had to stay locked up in the suit for their entire life or die. Clearly, that wasn't always the case.

She knew the answer, of course – keeping the suits on all the time minimized the need for medicines, ensured survival from pressure or atmospheric failure, and cut down on incidental injuries. But at the same time, some quarians had died from even a single suit breach. Not trying to work towards adapting to the reality of life was going to hurt the quarian people in the long run.

The outcasts were the only experts on the best ways to survive and even grow stronger from such things, and Tali knew she was probably the only one bothering to listen to one. She was careful to compile everything Kiala taught her about out-of-suit survival – she planned to introduce such knowledge back to the Flotilla whenever she got around to returning.

Talking with her had grown easier. Despite her bitchy personality and bitterness, Tali was surprised to find that Kiala was actually rather kind and sweet. She had been hurt badly by the exile from her people, and hurt worse when her sacrifices were proven to be needless, but Tali was as careful and polite as possible to not offend her.

Kiala had a very dry and wicked wit, an absolutely filthy mouth, and a delight in every part of human culture. She was constantly comparing certain things the Flotilla did that made no sense to human culture, which was much more relaxed. The quarian fixation on loyalty to the Flotilla and the survival of the Flotilla above everything else had resulted, in Kiala's opinion, in most of quarian arts and culture dying off. Rather than actively look for solutions or answers, the Flotilla had slowly begun to decay, and she blamed the nature of the quarian outlook on survival for that.

Tali had held her tongue during these diatribes, and was slowly reevaluating much of what she'd assumed was merely fact. The humans were _not _stupid, and the more she looked over what they did, the more convinced she was there had to be reasons behind it. The more she understood about humans, the better she would be able to understand and help Jeff … and the more likely she could figure out how to convince him that he was better off with the quarian people – no matter their flaws – than his own.

That was why she was trying to dig through the manual, ultimately. And if a small part of her fevered mind was amused at the fact she was having to translate a thickly written technical document for insights into an alien culture for the sake of eventually getting laid, she refused to humor it.

Unfortunately, unlike quarian tech manuals, which tended to explain why things were done and the steps taken to avoid issues, human manuals were dry and dreadfully unhelpful when it came to explanations.

Since that didn't work, she got up a bit unsteadily to walk into Engineering proper, seeking out the Assistant Engineer. The human was performing preventative maintenance checks on the air-filters, glancing up when she approached. "Oya irie, rasyai. Yer done filling yer face with th' manual? Blasted thing is as useful as vorcha in th' engine room."

She titled her head, still getting used to the heavy Arcturus accent, with all its slang words. "I thought I was mumu."

He snorted. "Slang for quarian. Yer dem a me friend now, of sorts, so it be good to address ye with th' proper respect-like, seen? Rasyai be meanin' boss lady."

She laughed, shaking her head. "If you say so, Mr. Patrick. I had some more questions about the SA's practices in terms of all these backup systems. And the manual, as you pointed out, isn't very useful."

The burly engineer nodded, finishing his checklist and tucking away his pad. "Aye, figgerin' you would. Mumus prolly build a mite different than the Alliance, renk to yas, fullness to us. If ye had no questions, I'd be thinking you were lagga. What ye be wondering'?"

She folded her hands together. "The Normandy didn't have a great deal of backups, or so many extra subsystems. Quarian ships certainly don't, and I'm not understanding why there is so much focus on this. Also, your power systems are routed very strangely. And the asari black boxes are driving me insane!"

She huffed, and the older human laughed quietly. "Ah, truly dread, the quarian puttin' the screw to th' Alliance method. Fetch yerself a sitdown, lass."

She sat down on one of the watch-standing chairs overlooking the power board for the Core, and he stood in front of her, folding his arms and rubbing his squared-off chin. "Th' Alliance waren't never no brilliant engineers, rasyai. We came outta the Days o' Iron with bare upon half our smarties dead and gone, an' th' other half up to jus' tryin' to keep the damn lights going. Took years and years for their even t'be a proper Alliance Engineerin' group."

He gestured around. "Since so much of what we did back then was half-ass and shite, we had to make sure if one thing went clotted, the rest would be straight, seen? So ye have backups ta backups, emergency gear and repair gear and all of that roundabout." He frowned. "It has come in handy, too, the damned spikes had a hard time puttin' our ships down in the Clusterfuck War."

She burst out laughing at this term for the FCW, and he gave her a sour grin. "Nowadays, th' backups are part n'parcel of the culture."

She nodded. "But they are … well, wasteful, aren't they? Quarian ships don't use them, and the Normandy didn't have any." A series of coughs racked her slim body, and when she recovered, she made a gesture. "Sorry."

He gave her a concerned look. "Ye seen the doc? That is sounding right bumbaclot."

She puzzled over the last word before shrugging. "I have, but I'll be okay. Um...where were we. Oh, I was saying that the Normandy didn't have any backups..."

He snorted. "Shite, and how well did that turn out for ye? Adams about wore out me ear with all the sheg-up and problems ye had when ye took the littlest pinch o' damage. Sides, the damned spikes fouled up the Normandy somethin' proper, with all that overpowered shielding and not enough armor to stop a good spitball. No god-fearing sailor would go into the Long Dark on that coffin without a heap o' prayers."

She watched him as he made another gesture to the Core. "As for wasteful, aye, I'll be about it and say you're right as rain. From an energy curve standpoint, we're not gonna be strong pound for pound as a turian or asari ship. But we can soak twice th' damage afore we lose everything. I figure yon quarian types can't be affording anything that doesn't get the most bang for yer buck. Whatcha callit, minimalist."

She nodded, and he snorted. "Fancy-arse word for shoestring budget, amorelike. Yer ships get a serious problem and what do ye do? Fix it on the spot?"

She frowned, then nodded again more slowly. "Yes..for the most part, as long as we have the parts to do so. Most quarians are heavily cross-trained in engineering – we all have to be."

Casey Patrick nodded. "Well, humans ain't. Most of us are not a jot of good in the engineering ways, and we focus people on th' tasks at hand. Ye can't be applying the same solution to different problems. Same with th' power systems. Power management is something yer people are probably wild-on about, but on an Alliance ship, plenty o' power to spare."

She couldn't argue that. "Why so much extra power, when it could be made more efficient?" She coughed again, grimacing as a bubble of nausea made her vision swim, but listened as carefully as she could to the answer.

He scowled. "That pack o' black devils and stooshies we call BuShips, rasyai. Our weapons an' shielding aren't as good as the spikes, an' the stupid idjit answer ta that is more power." He rolled his eyes, waving a hand towards the Core. "All th' extra power goes inta the weapons, powers the sensors somethin' fierce, and gives us enough leeway to be sloppy."

Tali nodded. She wouldn't miss the delicate and crazed dance of power balances the Normandy had required, but it still seemed … sloppy, as he put it. On the other hand, having extra power was never really a bad thing, as long as it wasn't just poor isolation. "And the black boxes?"

Patrick smiled. "Och, I ain't ta be touching that talkabout. But I'll say that th' Alliance is more concerned with makin' things work than how they work. A lot o' engineers ain't all jooks about the situation, but … outta our hands, seen?"

Tali sighed and nodded. "What..." She paused, then folded her arms. "What am I missing or not seeing? What do I need to learn to be a good human engineer?"

Patrick took a deep breath. "Lemme put it so. Yer value is that yer _not _human, rasyai. Ye see things and look on the works with a different eye than me and mine do. For now all ye need to focus on is getting' familiar with all the equipment and the power curves. All the fancy-dancy bits can come as ye move on and along, seen?"

He frowned as his omni chirruped, read the message, and scowled. "Daft idjits. Some fool blew out th' number six power converter tryin' to hotcharge the GARDIAN array for some test." He glanced in her direction. "Are ye feeling up to some repairin', or is your coughing tellin' ye to rest?"

She snorted. "I'll be fine, Mr. Patrick. Let's get some work done."

* * *

><p><em>Second AN: A PRIMER ON ARCUTURIAN PATOIS_

_The settlers of Arcuturus were drawn heavily from evacuees from Jamaica and Scotland, as those islands were not salvageable in the changes during the Days of Iron. The community has been heavily intermixed since then, but the accent is still primarily Scottish and liberally sprinkled with Jamaican patois. _

_Oya irie : greetings  
><em>

_mumu: literally bucket, slang term for quarians  
><em>

_Renk to yas, fullness to us: to be offensive (rank) to others, but to be proper (full of grace) to one's own group. Commonly used as a saying to denote differences in method_

_lagga: laggard, slow, dumb_

_smarties: scientists, engineers, anyone highly educated_

_clotted: a complex word , and evolved to mostly mean something akin to a bloody mess, or more properly, its aftermath._

_sheg-up: a low slang word for a confused process _

_stooshies: rich and incompetent idiots _

_talkabout: a complex subject, with an overtone of distaste. _

_jooks: jokes, to be happy about something._

_Seen: a ritualistic phrase roughly asking if you understand what they mean_


	15. Chapter 15 : Mirrors and Motivations

_**A/N:** This is a monstrously big chapter, because I couldn't really justify breaking it in half.  
><em>

_The nature of the changes in Shepard is something that I gave a great deal of thought to. I'm very interested in people's thoughts on this chapter, as (again) it's moving in a direction against the advice of others. Given that I was having blocks with every other approach, though, I figure sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and keep the story moving. I'm still working on the next chapter, with no clear ETA yet._

_This is also the last of Admiral Ahern for a while, although I will get some work on on Lions here sooner or later to tide his fans over. _

_As always, if you have questions about some of what is referenced here, leave a review or PM and I will answer as fast as I can. :)_

_EDITED: to placate Liethr (my beta) and 5 Coloured Walker (before I kill him or her with ... spaces abuse. Yes, that one was deliberate.)_

* * *

><p><em><em>'What is this shit? Why does <strong>anything<strong> think I can be killed?'  
><em>_

__ – Admiral Tradius Ahern, quoted at the Second Battle of Sol (ground) after taking out an entire pack of Brutes  
><em>_

* * *

><p>Shepard arrived in Ahern's offices on Monday morning, dressed in uniform rather than armor for the first time in weeks. As usual, the admiral was seated at his elevated desk, looking a little drawn but otherwise normal, apparently finishing a vid-call of some kind. His eyes speared her as she entered, a strange look in them. He made a brusque gesture towards the corner of his office.<p>

"Shepard. Sit the fuck down over there on the couch. Be there in a minute." He turned back to the vidscreen.

"And you! I don't give a fuck what the bitch-ass horn-headed prick says, load the fucking file just as instructed! We'll be down sooner or later, and if it isn't ready to go someone's going to need a goddamned proctologist when I get through with them."

He clicked off and stood, straightening his uniform as he came down the steps. "You know what I like about you, Shepard? When I tell you to do something, you don't give me nine reasons why you can't, you just do it. If more people had your goddamned attitude we wouldn't need to hide behind asari skirts so much."

He drew to a stop in front of her, then sat down on the opposite couch, wincing as he did so. "You may recall that when you first showed up here in all your glorious shitfuckery, I mentioned a wager. A little something I've been offering the past couple of years, as a way to further humiliate you idiots who come for training and as a way to entertain myself."

She nodded, remembering the conversation. "Yes, sir. I do remember that."

Ahern leaned back on the couch, eying her curiously. "The wager itself is not really that important, at least to me. By this point, the wager is more of a joke than anything else. I do it because it makes people pay attention when they have something to win or lose. We'll get down to the details on the wager in a minute, but first, I want you to think about something."

The admiral placed his hands together. "What do you think is the most important thing you've learned while you are here? Think carefully before you open your damned mouth."

Shepard nodded, and leaned back a bit. She reviewed everything they'd gone over – conditioning, how to fight, weapons and martial arts styles, technical considerations, ground and space tactics, positioning, the political crap...

_What could be the most important out of all of that?_

She racked her brains for several seconds before giving a disgusted sigh. "I don't know, sir."

Ahern gave a narrow smile. "Good. Most officers give me some kind of bullshit answer when I ask them that, trying to say something to make themselves look smart. When you don't know, say you don't know."

He paused. "A soldier has a lot of different weapons. Some are his guns, or his mind, or his heart and guts. Others are what he fights for, or his skills at doing it. Still other weapons would be shit like biotics, or their natural abilities and body. All of these are fucking _things, _Shepard. Things are useless unless you know how to use them."

He sneered. "I repeatedly hammer in the point that relying on any one thing is bad. And yet, every time I ask that question and some idiot gives me one thing they think is important and it's some bullshit answer like 'the mind', I want to fucking slap them. Because the whole reason I train them – and trained you – on so many different aspects is that they are _all_ important. Otherwise I wouldn't have wasted my goddamned time!"

Ahern's expression slid into a distasteful sneer. "The most important fucking weapon, and the one people always forget about, is their _training. _You can't use the goddamned guns, or fancy ass martial arts, or tactics or biotics or any fucking thing else without training. Training is what separates elites from green troops, badasses from jackasses, and living warriors from dead bastards."

"Being able to recognize and know how to react to a situation is more valuable than guns, or how smart you are, or how brave you are. Having a tactical option and alternatives in a situation keeps you alive better than any armor. I've seen plenty of brave, smart motherfuckers. They're all fucking dead. Because they hit a target they had no training for and made a bad judgment call."

He paused, then leaned forward.

"No matter what anyone says, you're a good soldier, Shepard. Your training was weak, but your instincts were spot on. People who have never been in your trenches can't cast judgment on your calls. All the training in the world won't make a good soldier out of a bad one. It will help a good soldier stay alive."

He folded his arms. "If you take anything away from Pinnacle, remember two things. First, remember the basic mantra – over-reliance on _anything_ is bad. Combining the tools you have will give you a bigger edge than doing the same shit over and over. While I'm sure you think you have learned a lot, all I've done is reinforce your basics, wean you off of relying on your biotics for everything, and show you the ropes."

She bit her lip. "Yes, sir." She sighed. "I don't understand why no one ever did that before now. It wouldn't have taken long if you could get it done in a month."

Ahern sighed. "That's a discussion that I have, I fucking assure you, already had with a great number of people. The best answer I can give you is that everyone but Tradius Ahern is a goddamned idiot."

She looked at him, and after a moment couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Ahern shook his head. "I so wish it was a fucking joke, Shepard, but I'm serious. People see the shit you've done and instead of seeing the men it cost you to get it done, or how torn up and hurt you get pulling it off, only see the results. They tell themselves that old mantra of 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it' and they don't see what I see. And most of all, most people don't understand _why _relying on the same shit repeatedly is bad. If you fail to perceive a problem, then it becomes hard to fix it."

"There are, I suppose, reasons for the way others have acted or failed to act. They may not be reasons I agree with – or even fucking _understand_ – but they have their reasons. What others did or didn't do is hopefully an awkward conversation that you can have with them. Thankfully, you and I will not have that kind of conversation, because I did not ignore what the fuck I saw, I fixed it instead."

He looked at her. "But keep I mind that is all I did. _Fix_ what you already had."

He leveled a finger at her. "Nothing I taught you was some super-secret training, Shepard. It was the basics, touched up with a bit of specialization here and there. The only problems you had were that you were sloppy with no real focus on defense, with too much focus on mindlessly closing range and too much reliance on your biotics to make up for your shortfalls elsewhere."

Shepard frowned. "But you … pretty much tore every piece of it apart, sir."

Ahern smiled coolly. "Did I? I've trained a lot of fucking people. I trained Dragunov, and that man was the most complete fighter I've ever seen in my life. And still I had to teach HIM a lot of the same shit I did with you. I end up having to repeat the basics over and over again, to him and to everyone else. It isn't because I'm somehow smarter than everyone else – although everyone else is a goddamned idiot..."

He muttered something under his breath, and then continued. "And it certainly isn't because I never made mistakes _myself_. I was almost taken out more than once through my own stupidity, and the most humiliating ass whipping I ever got was from a severely hacked off hanar that I was stupid enough to try to fight underwater."

She blinked at that, but he continued. "I have to teach the basics because each and every one of us has our strengths and weaknesses. Circumstance makes you stick to what works, but it also moves you away from remembering the simple shit." He paused. "In fact, a lot of the dumb shit you were pulling, such as not wearing a fucking helmet, can be chalked up to sticking to what works – in your case, biotics."

He stood. "The core of what makes you unstoppable is your biotic power. I focused on tearing your style apart because there is a difference in using it and _relying_ on it. Do not think your style is useless, Shepard. You had to teach yourself. You built something on your own, and despite what you think, I haven't done anything special except give you the basics and the skills to smooth it out."

She frowned. "But..." She paused, thinking, suddenly feeling torn between a small sense of warm pride and confusion. "So it wasn't all horrible? Then why – "

He shook his head. "Why the beat-down? Assumptions, mostly. I thought you were like most of the other biotics I've trained, full of their own bullshit and convinced a non-biotic couldn't teach them a thing. And I said it wasn't useless, not that it wasn't flawed. Before I trained you, your reliance on your biotics – everything, from firing off oversized weapons to even maintaining your balance – was crippling you."

He gave her a hard look. "One day, that would have gotten you killed. Biotics are goddamned terrifying, and the first thing an enemy will do if they can is nullify them. You saw yourself how fucking useless you were – you couldn't snipe, you lugged around weapons that without them you couldn't have fired, you even used them to compensate for not knowing proper cover tactics. With what I've added to your arsenal, you can shape what you already know into something devastating. If you were good with only half-ass training, you'll be that much better now."

He checked something on his omni-tool, then nodded. "In short, Shepard, what I did was give you some grounding. It is up to you to figure out how to improve the style you built for yourself. The other half of what I've taught you – I hope – is how to react to situations. That will be the difference between life and death when luck inevitably turns to show you its ass."

He gestured for her to stand, and he walked out of the office towards the lifts. "The second thing I want you to take away from this will be demonstrated shortly. We've got to head down to the special virtual training areas for that. While we walk, I will explain the wager."

He opened the lift and got in, and she followed. He punched a control and turned to face her. "I've been stuck out here in the ass end of nowhere for years, but even before shit went to hell with Saren and all that, my tour of duty here at Pinnacle was about up. That's what started the wager. In about a year I was finally slated to transfer to Arcturus and start drawing up the plans for the backbone of what would eventually be, by 2190, the Sixth Fleet."

"Originally, my wife and I intended to settle here on Intei'sai. I find it to be a pretty planet, people leave you the hell alone, and we got a good deal on this oversized place in the northern hills. Some asari had built it with her human bondmate, but then the guy died or some shit. Didn't care, it was a good deal."

He smiled, features softening. "I had some good years here. It's a good place to live."

He sighed. "Then about four years ago, my wife became ill with a transitive genetic disorder. Controllable with the proper care, but the only hospitals with the equipment to really handle it are on Earth or on the Citadel. I will be dipped in napalm and used to light candles on a batarian birthday cake before I ever go back to that fucking shithole Earth, so we bought a place on the Wards and put our home here up for sale. The original plan was to move her there and visit when I could, which I wasn't wild about but it was better than the alternative."

He folded his arms, grunting. "The problem moving is that I had to get rid of the house, and there were no buyers. I never liked it much myself, even if she did, and it doesn't surprise me most people on the planet aren't interested. Don't take this the wrong way, but asari architecture is fucking creepy. When the goddamned bathroom reminds you of a vagina..."

Shepard stared at him for a long second before bursting into laughter.

Ahern grinned himself. "About the same time as I started wanting to sell the house, I had a bit of an issue with a training program I run, and I decided that it would be easier to give the fucking thing away than sell it. As it turned out, I made a half-drunken bet with someone, wagering my house that they couldn't get through Dalthos and sure as shit, they couldn't."

His grin faded a bit. "Thus, the wager. Each person I train for command usually has a skill or item they can put up to bet. I bet my house here on Intei'sai. Worth a good five hundred grand, empty, and it comes with just about everything you could need. I might be able to sell it if I came down on the price, but frankly, if I'm going to take a loss on the thing, I might as well get something out of it. By this point, the wagers I've won have paid for it twice over."

He gave a disgusted sigh. "However, things have changed now, due to the Benezia Incident. Whoever the fuck was in charge of Second Fleet at Arcturus got his goddamned dreadnaught blown to shit, and they had to hose the stupid bastard out of his own bridge. Since Hackett made a hero out of himself saving the Council's ass, they're giving him Second Fleet, and they're finally promoting me to Fleet Admiral."

She nodded. "Congratulations, sir."

He snorted. "It's better than piloting a desk. And the reason I'm happy about it the move is that the whole Fifth Fleet thing works out much better – with the promotion coming up, I'll be stationed there and she can get the care she needs. But it puts me in a pickle, because now I have to get rid of the house soonest. With the transfer imminent, I've changed things up a bit. Instead of the usual wager, which is usually a full simulation of several very hard fights I've been in or seen, I've tweaked this one a bit to at least make it half-ass possible to win and to help solve the problems I'm having with our latest project. Are you interested in a house?"

She nodded, thinking.

_A house. A real house, not some shitty arcology tower layout or even an apartment, but a house. _

_A house meant a home. Family. A place to stand. _

She gave a tiny little smile and nodded. "Okay. Let's say I go for trying to get this house of yours. What am I putting up in return?"

Ahern smiled. "In this case, I want you, if you lose, to build me a fully functional ODIN shotgun, but in a full automatic fire version. I want a triple heatsink that I can rotate through in a drum when the damned thing overheats. I want it to incorporate a fluid-recoil adjustment and be able to link to targeting software built into my helmet, and I want a fucking omni-bayonet on the end of the thing. You pay for all the materials."

Shepard arched her eyebrow. "The version I use is illegal without the permit. Full auto is actually something the ODIN can do, but I didn't include that in the plans...a drum will raise all kinds of eyebrows. And a bayonet? Do you have any fucking idea what an ODIN does to people at close range? That's like sticking a flamethrower on a dreadnaught."

Ahern just gave her a look. "I'm a gun collector, and I'm also a vicious bastard. Humor me. I promise not to shoot anyone with it ...at least anytime soon. Anyway, the wager is based on you being able to complete one final task – and learn one final lesson."

The lift stopped, opening out onto a long armored corridor. Lighting was from recessed lights in the ceiling, while the walls were heavy armor plated bulkheads with white stencils reading "RESTRICTED ACCESS" on them. Ahern took the lead, walking past several armored doors until he came to one that read 'VIRTUAL ARENA COMMAND' and entering.

The room beyond was wide, a series of consoles manned by a handful of operators in BDU's, with a wide armaglass portal looking out onto a much larger space beyond, one crisscrossed with orange lines and studded with strange looking machines. Large computer banks bulked against two of the walls, and the ceiling had multiple haptic status screens and monitors mounted on it. She glanced around and frowned. "What is this place?"

Ahern smiled coolly. "This is the Simulations Room. A project the Alliance has been working on for about ten years. We originally started it as a VR training simulation, and as time has gone by we've updated it. We upgraded it when we took on a project for the Council, to create a training simulator for the SPECTRE program."

He walked further inside, and she followed. "There's a powerful set of multiprocessors here, running the most powerful and adaptive VI that humanity can make. It has been tested extensively on Luna, and although there were some … issues at one point, we have the bugs worked out."

Reaching the windows, he gestured to the vast room beyond. "The program generates holographic terrain, using holo-field technology, and simulates solid objects and effects using mass-effect generation equipment like that used in the Armax Arena. It loads up combat footage and data, along with carefully programmed baselines of military equipment, info-war techniques, and biotic power descriptions."

Shepard nodded, noting the pride in his voice and how his cursing had stopped. "And does what, exactly?"

Ahern walked over to a console by the window and tapped in some commands. The room beyond shimmered and turned into a white box, and in the center of it stood a generic Alliance Marine, in Onyx armor and wearing a helmet, loosely holding an Avenger rifle. "Generate a nearly perfect copy of any soldier or subject we have data on. Combined with the data from combat styles, video footage, and the like, we can recreate entire battles, skirmishes, or combats."

Ahern turned to face her. "The SPECTREs use it to practice fighting dangerous enemies or to sharpen their skills, whereas the Alliance uses it to simulate full out combat in zero-G or alien environments for A-rate training. Both types of simulations are very useful, of course – but the real goal is building better combat VI for our use in mechs. The VI learns, models behavior and combat tactics, and eventually will form the core of an entirely VI-driven infantry that will balance our lack of numbers."

She shrugged. "If you ask me, it sorta sounds like the geth."

Ahern nodded. "Which is why the VI is so carefully handicapped. Ours won't ever get out of control because there are physical interlocks preventing it from leaving this system, and it never has access to any hardware platforms. The quarians were stupid, they let millions of VI's link together and gave them physical forms from the outset. I don't know what they fucking thought would happen, but only a completely shitbrained idiot would think that design was safe."

He gestured to the banks of computers. "Ours is a singular unit that has to split its attention between the platforms it runs. It isn't anywhere nearly as advanced or reactive as the geth, but that's alright. It will be years before this VI is combat ready for the field, and at every step we have Council-approved programmers overseeing the process."

He folded his arms. "The problem we're running into – and why I'm using it for the nature of our bet – is simple. Namely, the damned machine is too good at mimicking what it fights. When we take off all the limiters and let the thing go full out, no one has managed to beat it when we load up the scenario I'm trying to get to work. And since the whole point of the scenario is to let people find how to beat themselves to find weaknesses, we're pulling our hair out."

She scratched her heed. "What's the scenario?"

He glanced at her. "Let me demonstrate."

He tapped controls on the panel and the room beyond shifted. Now it was an over-sized concrete field, bounded by flat gray walls with the SA logo on them, perhaps two hundred feet to a side.

In the middle of this box was a single female human in black Spectre armor, sans helmet, holding an ODIN.

Shepard swallowed as she stared at the VI recreation of herself, taking in the flat expression, before turning to Ahern. "Sir?"

Ahern smiled faintly. "The simulation is what we call a 'mirror match'. Stole the idea from Armax, actually, but theirs isn't that impressive. The goal was to be able to highlight weaknesses and let someone model their own combat prowess. Now, common sense tells us that a VI isn't as good as the real thing, but so far no one has been able to beat their mirror match-up. Not N7s, not SPECTREs, and not even me."

He tapped a control, and a second Shepard appeared. This one was also clad in Spectre armor, but white instead of black, clutching an ODIN as well. Shepard couldn't make out the expression on this one, as it had a helmet on.

"This second VI is one I had made of you, based on the training we've been doing. I want you to observe something. Call it the final lesson. A hard demonstration of just the fuck why I had to train you so hard."

He tapped several more controls, and the room shifted a third-time, to some random, war-torn field. Bits of debris and half-wrecked buildings formed cover, while dark and ugly clouds skidded across the false sky. The two Shepards stood far apart now, about five hundred feet separating them.

Ahern pulled down two haptic screens to his left, one focused on the black-armored Shepard, the other one the one in white armor. "I call them Old Shepard and New Shepard. I want you to watch very closely what happens when I pit them against each other."

He tapped a control, and the two figures moved. New Shepard immediately shipped her ODIN, tucking in cover, while old Shepard pulled out her Revenant and begin closing range, firing in the rough direction of New Shepard.

She knew what Old Shepard was doing, suppressive fire while she got close enough for a kanquess. But watching the figure now, the tactic seemed so flat, so clumsy … so stupid. She wasn't even ducking into cover, just charging ahead firing, and the blasts from the Revenant weren't anywhere close to New Shepard.

New Shepard calmly sighted in with a sniper rifle and fired, the first shot taking Old Shepard in the knee and shredding the barrier with the flare of a disruptor round. The second shot struck the charging form of Old Shepard just above the right eye, blowing most of the VI simulations head off in a shockingly gory spray of virtual blood.

Shepard swallowed. Ahern grimaced. "I've run this over fifty times at ranges greater than three hundred feet, and the VI reacts the same way every fucking time. Would you say that's an accurate representation of what you would have done?"

Shepard bit her lip, wondering that herself. She realized that she had, before her training, a bad tendency to only take cover when already under heavy incoming fire. Batarians didn't use many snipers, and now that she thought about it, every time she'd been jacked up back in her RRU and RIU days had been due to sniper fire.

Over the years she'd simply learned to adapt, getting closer before beginning her attack, or dictating the fight to a range where she could kanquess from. With a disgusted sigh she nodded. "Pretty much. Seems fucking stupid now."

Ahern chuckled. "Yeah, it does. Let's show you one hundred feet." He tapped controls, the scene shifting slightly, the two combatants much closer together now.

Once again, Old Shepard began heavy fire with the Revenant, but this time it was much more accurate, and New Shepard reacted. She biotically charged from cover to cover, never letting Old Shepard close on her, while counter-firing with the Valkyrie assault rifle he'd replaced her Revenant with. She alternated this fire with various explosive grenades. This barrage chipped away at the Old Shepard's barrier field until it flickered, showing it was growing weak.

Eventually New Shepard stopped retreating, and Old Shepard swapped to the ODIN and biotically charged. New Shepard dropped back with her own charge, flinging an anti-biotic grenade along with a smoke grenade at her feet, then fell back as Old Shepard charged once more. The two grenades went off at once, and New Shepard opened up full auto, spraying the cloud of smoke.

Old Shepard, disoriented from the loss of biotics and the smoke, stumbled out, and New Shepard charged her, slamming into her violently with a Nova, a moment later driving her omnitool into Old Shepard's face along with biotic power that drove the glowing spike completely through Old Shepard's head.

She winced. Ahern shrugged. "This one's a bit more reactive. Still, nine times out of ten, Old Shepard gets her ass handed to her. The only time she wins it is if she bothers with using her other biotics. Let's change up some parameters, though, just so you can see. We'll remove the use of anti-biotic grenades."

This time, the range was the same, but Old Shepard pulled out her Thunderbolt sniper rifle, actually ducking into cover and firing off ranging shots. New Shepard triggered her omnishield, and used her biotic charge laterally, moving into better cover, while dropping a pair of tech-mines.

She drew back further, into the rubble of a building, and Old Shepard shipped her sniper rifle, pulling out her ODIN. Once again, Old Shepard charged, this time triggering the tech-mines, blowing her off her feet. New Shepard flashed out in her own kanquess, discharging her Sunfire pistol at pointblank range into Old Shepard three times before dropping a grenade and flashing away.

Already nearly dead, Old Shepard gamely managed to jump back from the grenade, but her ODIN was ruined and she drew her Revenant instead. Falling back limping, she fired long bursts of fire, most of which got close to New Shepard, but none connecting.

New Shepard calmly pulled out her sniper rifle, putting shots into Old Shepard's shoulder and knee, chipping away at Old Shepard's weakened barrier. Old Shepard finally ducked into cover, and as soon as she did so New Shepard charged.

Old Shepard hit her with a burst from the Revenant, shredding New Shepard's shields, but the New Shepard VI flung out two of her omni-goop grenades, locking Old Shepard in place. New Shepard made another kanquess, but had angled the charge upwards, so that she came out high above her enemy.

The real Shepard blinked. She'd never really thought to do that, and tucked the tactic away for later use.

Falling rapidly, New Shepard's ODIN barked in autofire directly from above the struggling, stuck Old Shepard, pulping her head and torso. New Shepard landed on Old Shepard with a thud, breaking her fall and covering the dying Old Shepard with her ODIN.

Ahern sighed. "Now, I know you used to work best at close range. So..." He tapped more controls, and this time the two figures were less than twenty feet apart.

Both Old and New Shepards immediately flew into charges, but Old Shepard charged at her enemy while New Shepard charged _behind _Old Shepard. Lighting fast, New Shepard flung a smear at Old Shepard, wrecking her omnitool and damaging her armor.

Old Shepard struggled to turn, and New Shepard fired with her ODIN, hitting her in the leg. As Old Shepard skidded back, New Shepard leapt into a kanquess, coming out of it with a biotic kick that knocked Old Shepard's ODIN out of her hands.

Old Shepard tried for a counter attack, lashing out into a kick of her own, ducking under a blast from New Shepard's ODIN. With a pull Old Shepard jerked her clone's weapon into her own hands and fired, blasting New Shepard to the ground bleeding. A second shotgun blast to the head finished New Shepard off.

Ahern smirked. "At this range, pretty iffy. Let me run it again, and turn off the restriction on anti-biotic grenades." He kicked off the sequence, and once again they both charged. But this time New Shepard charged straight backwards in sequence, dropping an anti-biotic grenade after her third charge.

Old Shepard barreled ahead, and came out of the kanquess to get hit by the blast of the anti-biotic grenade. She staggered back, and New Shepard hit her with a shockwave, slamming her back against a wall. Before Old Shepard could shake off her stun, New Shepard extended her arm, jamming her ODIN into Old Shepard's face and pulling the trigger.

The real Shepard winced again at the gory sight, and Ahern turned to face her fully. "...like I said, iffy. What I can take away from this is simple. At anything over a hundred feet your old methods will get you killed. Closer than that you get a little better, and at CQB range you are about fifty-fifty. That doesn't invalidate your style exactly – but it does make it very dangerous to just rely on your biotics. Anyone using pulse dissipation grenades ruins your whole fucking game, as you just saw."

She nodded, and Ahern folded his arms. "In a way, Shepard, you were very fucking lucky. Saren was far too arrogant to think he'd need something like that, and most of your fights were not long range affairs. The asari never have good anti-biotic attacks, since so much of their own style uses them, and besides they have their own way of disrupting biotics. I guarantee you that if you run into anything harder than pirate scum and slavers, though, you will get an ugly surprise one of these days when it comes to eating an anti-biotic grenade. Turians and salarians throw those goddamned things like candy at Halloween."

She nodded, thinking back over what she had just seen. "So whenever you match them up...is there any situation where the old style wins every time?'

Ahern smiled. "Very close quarters, with no anti-biotic attacks, when the attack is from an oblique angle – sides or rear – and the target is setup for mid-range attack. Or when you have covering long and medium range elements to distract your enemy from your approach. In those cases, the old way you attacked is almost 100% lethal."

He folded his arms. "Problem is, the percentages drop the further out you start. And the 'new Shepard' can do the same thing, except at almost any range."

She nodded. "So...what do I need to do here, exactly? You said you had a setup for me to help you with ..."

He turned back to the control panel. "The problem we're running into, like I said, is that no one can beat their own match. The only deviation I've seen in that is with your two VI's going at each other – very occasionally, the crazy shit the older one pulls off bypasses the fancy tactics of the updated version and splatters it. Most people don't change up their style so radically, and I think the VI is having a hard time integrating the two."

He frowned. "We've run the diagnostics and we're not coming up with a clear reason why the system is acting this way. My salarian programmer thinks the issue is with the program 'cheating' to adapt to moves faster than a real being could react, but we're not seeing that. The only way we can really get good data is by matching up someone against a mirror match and letting it go all out while at the same time preventing it from fully updating its own reactions code as the fight evolves. That isn't … exactly a fully accurate measure of the fight, but it should work."

He smiled, turning to face her. "And that's where you come in. You think you can do it? Beat yourself, your new and improved self?"

She frowned. "Why not match me up against my 'old self'? I mean, if the idea is to see how much I've improved, how will me fighting the 'new' me show anything?"

Ahern sighed. "I see your brain doesn't work any fucking better than before." He gave a sour smile before he folded his arms. "Three reasons. The first is simple: the fuck would that prove? That yes, with proper training you can decimate someone who doesn't have the same level of training you have? Or that when it gets down to very close range that it comes down more to luck than skill?"

She frowned, and he continued. "I'm not here to see if you have _improved_ over your old self, Shepard. For fuck's sake, you proved _that_ when you three girls got past my test. The old you wouldn't have done the thing you did with downloading the data. You'd have tried to have your fucking girlfriend and Zorah cover you while you went for the prize and eaten a goddamned explosion. The point is to see if you've actually mastered what I've been trying to show you, and while you can certainly do that by head-shotting your old form VI at four hundred feet, it doesn't show everything you've had to learn."

He glanced out the window. "Secondly, matching you up against the VI simulation of your old self isn't even a good measure of showing you've improved, just emoish and stupid pat-on-the-back bullshit. Look how far you've come, blah blah blah."

He fixed her with a hard stare. "I'll cover this more later, but the only thing this demonstration needs to show is how much you've changed and can handle a _thinking _opponent with competent tactics. What you were before I fixed your style up is something best left in the past and forgotten, because frankly the further you distance yourself from that the fucking better. We're not doing this to showcase how others were wrong about you, but to showcase what you can do now that training is done."

He pointed a finger at her. "Finally, Shepard, the point of the wager is to give you a goddamned challenge. Unless I start the old VI off at thirty feet, it won't be a challenge. You already know how to counter everything it can pull out and throw at you, just by remembering how I countered _your _bullshit. If nothing else, the point of your training is to make you think, Shepard. To improvise. Every time you've been up against a wall, you've come up with something – and you need to develop that, hone it, practice it. The unpredictable can't be predicted."

She nodded. "And if you can't prepare for it, you can't stop it."

He nodded. "Matching you up against the VI that mirrors you as you are now is the only way to make absolutely fucking sure that you have internalized the shit I've tried to drill into your thick skull. More importantly, you going up against your old self isn't going to give me the data I need to fix the damned thing."

He folded his arms again. "Anything else you need to know before you lose your ass off?"

She thought about it a minute. "How … realistic is this simulation? Because that looked pretty ugly."

Ahern snorted. "With a living being in there, the safeties are on. The VI scores based on what and how it connects with you, but they're just mass effect fields. Your armor will be disabled remotely to simulate how badly you are hurt. Also keep in mind what you are fighting is simply a hologram with more mass effect fields to simulate a solid body. All of its biotics and what not are simulations, which don't match up well with reality. It can 'simulate' a charge by simply recreating the hologram after the jump, and it can do simple pulls and throws, but everything else is 'simulated biotics'."

She nodded. "So, if I can take down my evil twin, I get your house."

Ahern nodded, and glanced around the room. The only other people in the control area were a couple of techs and a salarian fiddling with a computer console more than thirty feet away, but he still lowered his voice. "I figure that since you're getting shacked up, the house will come in handy. Your girlfriend will probably like it since the design is that of a blasted asari house anyway." He smirked. "Did I mention I dabble in making weapons myself, and it has a fully kitted out omnifoundry room?"

She smiled at that, and Ahern smirked. "Of course, you have to actually defeat your doppelganger, and frankly I don't think you have what it takes, with all the goddamned shit I had to beat out of you. So yes, if you win, the house. If you lose, you spend your last week building me the most powerful shotgun in creation."

She rolled her shoulders. "Alright, Admiral. I'll take your bet."

He laughed. "Good, good. Delacor chickened out, and Branson...well. Let's just say he didn't do very well. I'm interested to see if you can do better, or fuck up even more entertainingly."

He turned away, walking over towards the salarian. "Bago, get the arena set up for a level six, full safeties, single unit against single unit. Use the urban combat layout seven, and go to full coordination on the VI, suppress feedback updates."

He gestured to Shepard as he looked at one of the human techs. "Tomas, get the commander here to the equipment room and have her use one of the asari Spectre suits. Code in weapons summary as identical to Shepard 2.0 and set up the pulse dissipation fields to suppress biotics in three meter square blocks on detonation of simulated anti-biotic ordinance."

The human tech, a slender man with dark hair and a single cybernetic eye, nodded, getting up from his console and gesturing for Shepard to follow. As she walked out, Ahern smiled again, and then tapped his comm-link.

"General Collins, Shepard has agreed to the simulation I suggested. This will be your last chance for review before signoff. If you and these other observers want to watch, it will start in about ten minutes."

A thin, reedy voice answered. "Do you think this is really necessary, Admiral? You argued the point that much of her deficiency had been corrected."

Ahern snorted. "You're the ones who implied she wasn't worth the time or effort. And you're the ones who will say yay or nay to the final call on her command. She's attached to Arcturus Command, so she's technically your Marine. I'm just giving you heads up that the shit is happening."

Collins gave a sigh. "We'll be there shortly, Admiral. General Collins out."

Ahern gave a small nod of satisfaction and glanced over to the salarian tech. "Bago, you loaded the program _exactly_ as I told you to, yes?"

The salarian nodded. "Yes. You are aware that there are significant inefficiencies running it in this fashion? It may help us pin down the problem,but it is going to be very hard for her to actually defeat her VI copy if the reactivity is set to full, even if the updates are turned off."

Ahern shrugged. "Meh. You have no faith in my ability to turn dross into gold, Bago. Watch and see."

O-ATTWN-O

Ten minutes later, Shepard stepped out of an armory and into what looked like a re-creation of the desolate shattered streets and buildings of Dirth. Thin wispy clouds moved fretfully across an otherwise clear blue sky, and the ground was hard plastcrete, cracked here and there by battle.

A row of broken colony modules curved into a C-shape around her, broken in the middle by a debris-rimmed crater. More boxy buildings loomed in the background, and up the side of the cliff-face to her right. To her left the buildings were little more than rubble, eventually stopping short of a wide and rushing river.

Without hesitating or waiting, Shepard hustled into cover, making sure her helmet was secure. She kept the quick checklist Ahern had drilled into her head in mind, prepping a single anti-biotic grenade and triggering her omnitool to scan for EM disruptions.

Ahern's voice sounded in the earpiece built into her helmet. "As you can probably tell, this is a mockup of part of Hennson City on Dirth. Your opponent is VI Shepard 2.0. She's identical to you – wearing Spectre armor and the same weapons you have. Your goal is simple; defeat your clone in less than twenty minutes. If you are defeated, knocked unconscious, take longer than twenty minutes, or somehow manage to blow up my arena, you lose. Just to make you feel special, you have observers again."

She nodded to herself, eyes moving, before pulling out her new Manur sniper rifle and easing around the boxy shape of the colony module. She had no idea how the VI would use her skills, and one of Ahern's many maxims came to mind.

_When in doubt, fucking cheat._

She used the scope of her rifle to scout out the area, looking for good, hard cover, and finally finding it some fifty feet away – a heavily reinforced building with a low ring of rubble all around it.

Leaping into the kanquess, she emerged next to the building, ducking down to avoid fire. Her omni chirped, picking up the EM spikes that a biotic charge caused – the VI clone was moving around as well.

For all of her life, Shepard had always been on the offensive. It was how she operated, how Vanguards were supposed to fight, and what she was best at. But she noticed the VI version of her was more defensive. Charging in and trying to overpower it would end up with her in its sights before she could take it out.

She scattered three or four tech-mines and omni-goop grenades in the ring of rubble surrounding the building, then placed down two more omni-goop grenades set to proximity in the main approach to the building before heading inside. It was a simple building, with a solid heavy construction that would not fall apart easily. Shepard was amazed at how realistic the simulation was, even if up close things looked a little flat and blurry.

She tucked herself into the far window and pulled her omnitool up again. She'd spent years learning a complete set of info-war techniques, and then hardly ever used them. Kicking herself mentally for her stupidity in the past, she began loading up a program and trying to remember how to set it up and fire it off.

O-ATTWN-O

Ahern carefully monitored the status board. The real Shepard had dug herself into a damnably tight defensive setup, ringed it with mines and grenades, and was obviously waiting for the clone to fuck up. The clone, on the other hand, was stealthily moving from cover to cover, checking angles, and approaching Shepard's rough location from the side.

Next to him, General Richard Collins, CO of the Arcturus military command, frowned. "This isn't the Butcher's usual MO, Ahern. This isn't even Vanguard tactics, from either of them. I thought she was supposed to be... well, charging and all of that. Neither one of them are acting like I would expect a Vanguard to behave."

Ahern snorted. "You ever seen a Vanguard major of marines, Collins?"

The older general's frown became thoughtful. "...well, no. Aside from her, that is."

Another person in the room, a major from Arcturus, gave a snort. "The highest ranking Vanguard besides Shepard was a Lieutenant Commander before they bought it, I believe. Most of them do not achieve high ranking."

Ahern laughed. "Yeah, there's a reason for that. The Vanguard battle style is great for close-quarters combat with lots of cover and no room to maneuver. Boarding and urban combat scenarios, mostly. But when range comes into play, the Vanguards tend to die, as they have to walk right into the enemy defense in order to get a hit off."

One of the Commissariat observers folded his arms. "Then why do we even have them?"

Ahern gestured at the field. "In a chaotic battle situation, a Vanguard can do real damage. And there's certainly a place for such a thing when dealing with batarians and pirates, who don't have a good answer to that sort of thing."

A rear admiral smiled thinly, watching Shepard move around in her tucked-in cover. "Then the source of your dislike for the program is because of … what, exactly? That others cannot use their soldiers correctly? Or that the tactics are not elegant?"

Ahern shrugged. "Partly. Mostly due to the fact that when faced with an opponent who is your equal, charging in without knowing what is ahead is suicide. Don't ever forget that Vanguards are something fucking krogan came up with, and they can use it to the best effectiveness given their durability. Why in the fuck someone thought humans would be good at it is beyond me."

Another major laughed. "Then no wonder she's been successful, given that she even terrifies krogan. Still, your point is taken – most Vanguard die before achieving high rank due to the high-risk nature of their combat style. BuPers should review this."

Ahern snickered. "Good luck on that."

Collins shrugged. "Hmm. If she's not using Vanguard tactics, what is she using?"

Ahern chuckled. "A mix of things, actually. I didn't change her basics – I haven't had enough time to really re-tool her basic combat moves – but I have given her a lot more flexibility and a grounding in proper cover tactics. Most of it is evasive and cover-based scouting and learning not to rely on any one aspect of her skills, but to mix 'em up. Combined with a better weapon choice and more tactical understanding of when and how to strike, she won't be doing the same thing, over and over."

Collins grunted. "That still sounds like you've changed her combat style. Given how much other training you must have had to complete, I begin to see why you think she needs more time. How much can she have picked up in a month?"

Ahern shook his head. "Watch and see."

O-ATTWN-O

Shepard finally finished her coding, launching a single scout drone from her omnitool. She'd studied drones during the info-war classes she took, but most non-engineers used pre-programmed drones, like Liara's gun drones, that launched automatically using a script. A true omni-drone was built from scratch using the omnitool, and required a certain level of finesse.

Given that she had not done this in over five years, her effort wasn't exactly Tali-level. This drone was barely capable of movement and basic sensing, but she knew it would be something unexpected. Ahern may have had this VI thing mimicking her moves based on tapes and recordings, but his words about training had reminded her that once upon a time, she'd learned literally everything the SA had to teach. It wouldn't expect what she had only rarely used.

The drone scuttled ahead, and Shepard loaded her sniper rifle with an autoswap routine, the first shot a shieldbreaker round, the second shot a disruptor round. Then she proximity primed two anti-biotic grenades. She kicked off the pre-charger on the Sunfire pistol and settled into cover.

She had an inkling of an idea. The VI had dominated because it neutralized Old Shepard's biotics – how would it react when its own were taken away?

Ahead, the drone bumbled along, before turning and picking up movement. A second later, a sniper round blew it apart. Shepard checked her omnitool, the shot came from her west. Grinning, Shepard carefully repositioned herself into slightly better cover, sighting downrange.

Her counterpart did a charge into a pile of wreckage for cover, carefully sweeping its rifle across the terrain. Shepard placed each one of her proximity anti-biotic grenades on her own body, one on each shoulder, before checking that her Sunfire was fully primed and ready to fire. She sighted in as carefully as she could, and fired twice with her sniper.

The first round, as expected, exploded across the VI-copy's shields, and the second slammed into its chest, scattering electrical arcs around its body and nullifying any biotics for a few seconds.. Shepard hurled into the kanquess immediately, slamming directly into the clone and hurling them both out of cover and to the ground, the clone's assault rifle flying out its hands.

Before anything else could happen, the two anti-biotic grenades on Shepard's shoulders went off with a whump. Gritting her teeth against the agony of the close-range biotic disruption, Shepard pulled her Sunfire pistol out and shot the clone directly in the face. Two shots splintered the helmet it wore as it was blasted back across the terrain.

Shepard holstered the pistol and leapt, tearing free her ODIN and firing twice at point-blank range. The blasts wrecked the armor further, and the VI managed to kick out and get out of the way of a third shot. It drew its own ODIN, firing in a pattern designed to back her off, and scrambled away, limping towards the ring of debris.

Shepard winced at the impact of the simulated hit. There wasn't any actual shotgun blast, but the simulated mass effect hit had hurt badly. She ducked into cover, letting the clone open the distance. Putting away her own shotgun to draw her assault rifle, she grinned as she saw it get close to the ring of debris. To encourage it along, she fired, placing short bursts into the VI-clone at will. It managed to evade the first two with rolls, but the third such blast staggered it, and it stumbled towards the ring of debris in desperate search for cover.

Shepard smiled savagely as the thing stumbled directly into a tech-mine. The explosion sent it flying, directly into yet another tech-mine, this one with an omni-goop grenade nearby.

Shepard felt her own bionics returning, and lashed out with warpfire over the area the VI clone had landed in, before using a pull on more rubble to drop it atop the spot. Pulling out her ODIN, she finally stepped out of cover, slowly advancing on the spot.

O-ATTWN-O

In the observation room, there was silence for several long seconds, before Ahern began to softly laugh.

Collins turned to face him. "What's funny?"

Ahern only smiled. "She's doing a lot better than I expected so far, that's all."

Collins arched an eyebrow. "So far? I would think she just won the fight, no?"

The commissar next to him nodded. "Very impressive. That's an ugly routine she came up with, combining the speed of the kanquess with the grenades to neutralize the VI. Pretty much an instant win."

Ahern snickered. "Shepard is known for one thing – being hard to kill. The VI is down, not out."

O-ATTWN-O

As she got closer to the scorched pile of debris, she saw the clone's ODIN shotgun to one side, tossed away by the blast. She carefully approached, her barrier at full, and stepped around the nearest debris pile to take in the downed form of her opponent.

The moment she did so, the clone moved. A push field flung all the debris straight at Shepard, many pieces striking her barrier and knocking her down. A chunk of simulated concrete struck her weapon hand hard enough to dislodge her ODIN, and a second later the VI clone charged her, exploding into a Nova that sent Shepard staggering away.

The thing pulled its Sunfire pistol, but it had not been charged. Shepard lashed out with a snap kick, knocking the weapon away just as Ahern had done to her, then closed in, her omni-blade unfolding as she went for a stab.

The battered VI clone parried her blow with its own omniblade. The simulation's Spectre armor was blasted to ruins, most of the helmet cracked and with blood streaming from several open wounds. Yet it met every swipe, kick, and thrust with the utmost precision.

Every assault she tried was effortlessly matched, and the thing outmaneuvered her, kicking at her knee and forcing her into a step-back, then hooking her leg and sending Shepard to the ground. A stomp followed, smashing into the knee joint hard enough to nearly make Shepard scream in agony, and she rolled out of the way.

The thing extended a hand, pulling its ODIN into its grip and firing. The blast rocked Shepard, and she felt a rib creak. Flashing status reports from her armor reported simulated damage to her right leg and arm which would slow her down.

Shepard hit her omni, triggering an overload program, the clone's ODIN giving a heavy blat of energy and then detonating violently in the clone's hands, scattering burning polonium all over the figure. Shepard blinked at this, and decided that the ODIN must have already been damaged. Not wasting her opportunity with the clone distracted, she got back to her feet and stumbled into combat range, planting a vicious omni-blade stab right into the clone's stomach.

It arched in agony, before giving an animalistic snarl and backhanding her, making her head ring. It charged her, swinging wildly, and Shepard ducked back from a pinning swipe, focusing hard with her biotics to lighten her weight before leaping back. The effect worked, letting her leap back several feet further than usual, and she then dodged back behind another pile of debris.

Her tech-mines were calibrated not to blow up on her, but when the clone charged in to close range again, it wasn't so lucky, and ate a third one.

Rather than do her usual and close in to finish it off, Shepard used pull to fling two more tech-mines at it, and followed up with explosive grenades. With a heavy digital screech that sounded like fury, the thing was blasted away, this time crashing to the ground, smoking.

Shepard levered herself up, drawing her Sunfire pistol and charging it. Even as she sighted in, though, the clone-VI gave an all-too familiar roar of rage and flashed into the kanquess, crashing into her.

Shepard fired even as the thing's omni-blade stabbed down. Her shot blew her doppelgangers head off, but her suit armor blared a warning of 'lethal impact' as the simulated omniblade hit her throat.

A moment later the form on top of her turned to blocky chunks of light, as the surroundings faded into black and orange gridded lines. She was lying on the floor, and a small crowd of people was watching her from the observation area above.

Grunting, she got to her feet, staring up. Ahern's voice came over the loudspeaker. "An interesting result. Get yourself cleaned up and head on back to my office. We have a few things to discuss."

She grunted, glancing around for her ODIN, which she picked up before departing.

O-ATTWN-O

By the time she had showered, changed back into uniform, and gotten to Ahern's office, her shoulder and back were starting to hurt from the mass-effect slams she'd taken.

The last memory of her VI charging her, roaring in anger, was stuck in her head. When the chips were down, even her VI lost itself to the hate. She found that darkly amusing and depressing at the same time, as she came to Ahern's door. Stopping a moment to compose herself, she entered his office, finding him talking to someone via commlink again, his voice acerbic and cutting.

"No, if I felt she wasn't capable of doing the job I would not sign off on this. The protests I made regarding this arrangement at the outset stand. Either she should get the respect of having the full training program to finish her naval training, or she should be assigned a Major of Marines to take command of her men. Putting both jobs under one hat remains fucking stupid."

The voice on the other side of the comm was cool and almost smug.. "Admiral Ahern, please remember that this was certainly not the Admiralty's concept. What I'm hearing sounds like uncertainty. She's either rated to command a battle group and the associated regiment, or she_ isn't_. It shouldn't be a nuanced answer."

Ahern folded his arms, glaring at the image on the screen."How in fuck are you High Admiral? Any question of if an officer is ready for a new command is a nuanced answer. Just because they complete training doesn't mean they get the concepts, and in this case, she gets the concepts but hasn't completed the full level of training. Assuming – not that I'm saying this mind you – that I say she's not quite ready but would be with a bit more time, would she get the training _then_?"

Rear Admiral Branson smiled and folded his own arms. "No, I am afraid not. Our recommendation would be that she have oversight of some kind, an idea the President seems resistant to, and claims is unneeded. Without further evidence of her unsuitability, our hands are tied. And while I understand your frustration, she has no more time to learn – even setting aside the fact that our fleet is depleted enough that her battle group is important, we cannot know when the Council will call on her as a Spectre."

Ahern grunted. "There's the problem. She can't have 'oversight' if she's a damned Spectre, now can she? That's the whole problem here, you want to fucking put a minder on her, and the President told you to stick it up your ass. I happen to agree, as any 'oversight' you're likely to give isn't going to cut the mustard."

Branson sneered. "That is beyond your purview, Admiral Ahern. Your task is merely to train and assess."

Ahern gave the younger man a cool smile. "I have no fucking clue who thought you'd be fit for this job, kid, but let me give you a piece of advice. There's a reason all the command level officers like you and her come through me before you get the nod for command, and that is because it IS within my ever-fucking purview to consider the shit that BuPers doesn't think of!"

Ahern triggered his omnitool. "Since you want to play it like this, though, my recommendation is simple. General Collins thinks she's more than ready. The Commissariat is pleased. She's passed all her training efforts here. She's fully qualified to command her battle-group and the associated regiment, although additional force training would be required for her to handle any larger force. She should go ahead and be promoted to at least naval Captain in light of her ratings, but as I understand it she needs more time in space for that to be possible."

Branson frowned. "Admiral, many feel she is not ready for this. You are aware that by signing your name to this, you are endorsing her abilities, and if she can't live up to them you will be called to account?"

Ahern leaned forward, a hard and dangerous smile on his face. "With all due respect, High Admiral, you are hardly fit for the role you have now. Whoever signed off on _your _elevation clearly didn't give a shit about that, or the fact that you have never even commanded more than a single ship in a battle, so spare me the 'not ready' bullshit."

He folded his arms. "She has commanded a small fleet action at least once, and she's a quick learner. I already said that if I wasn't comfortable with doing it, I'd have sent her ass back home with a note that says 'Sucks, airlock fastest'." His smile turned feral. "As for 'calling me to account', I'd like to see that shit."

He exhaled. "If there's nothing else, I have actual work to do."

Branson narrowed his eyes. "I will not forget this, Admiral."

Ahern snorted. "Good, maybe next time you'll think before you try your ignorant shitfuckery on me. Pinnacle out." He punched the control to kill the comm, shaking his head. "Goddamned arrogant ass fake."

Ahern turned to face Shepard, stepping down from the elevated section of his office. "The fuck are you just standing there for, woman? Sit down." He pointed to the couches, before going over to his mini-fridge and pulling out a bottle and two glasses.

He sat down across from her, pouring brandy into both glasses, and picked up one. "That was very unexpected, Shepard, how you handled your mirror match. I was rather hoping you'd do something to impress me, but I didn't expect that. Made me laugh my ass off when you pulled out that drone. Brass watching was pretty goddamned impressed."

Shepard glanced at the comms panel before flicking her eyes back to Ahern, nodding slowly. "I kept in mind one of your rules, sir. When in doubt, fucking cheat. Fighting that thing on even odds would have just gotten me killed."

He smiled. "Yes, it would have been. The definition of insanity is seeing that something won't fucking work and doing the shit anyway. There were lots of approaches you could have used – none of them 'wrong' – as long as you kept the key points in mind. They can't hit what they can't fucking see."

She nodded. "Did the match help you fix...whatever the hell was wrong with the thing?"

Ahern nodded. "We did a lot of analysis modeling based on your fight, and I think I've pinned down the problem. The tactical subroutine the thing uses to figure out its actions is actually modeling moves ahead of time, based on the combat data is has regarding the person that it is fighting. We saw this happen repeatedly in your fight when you did something outside of your norms, as it kept trying to model your next action off of previous actions and couldn't find a reference."

He sipped his brandy. "With that fixed, we think the resulting matches will be more realistic and even, rather than fighting a goddamned chess-master who can predict your moves before you even pull them off. That functionality was never intended, although we've copied it off to put into the combat VI we're going to build from it."

He smiled. "So, in that regard, you did help me out, as intended. And you did indeed drop the thing, but it killed you all the same. What did you take away from this clusterfuck of a fight, Shepard?"

She sat back, thinking. "First, that when I think outside my own box, and use all this shit I've bothered to learn over the years, I can do more than just jump around. Molding the battlefield will let me use my own biotics and other skills more effectively. The flips side of that is I cannot let the enemy prepare a battle site against me, or I could end up like the VI-clone did. With just a bit of booby trapping and a couple of snipers, someone could take me out very quickly."

He nodded, and she continued. "Second, that no matter how good my tactics are, or how much effort I put into isolating all the danger factors, shit can and will go wrong. I should have opened range at the end, out of kanquess range at least. I let myself get too confident."

He nodded again, but waggled a hand. "To a degree, Shepard, that's true of all people. I think the issue is that you biotics get too full of your own blue bullshit and forget you are not invulnerable. A biotic barrier can take a lot more damage than a kinetic one can. It can keep you alive in situations where a normal fighter would be splatter on the ground. But once it goes down, you aren't any tougher or stronger than anybody else, and your tactics need to drill into your head that evasion is needed before you get to that point."

She nodded. "Understood."

He sipped his drink again. "As far as the wager goes, you sort of won, but still lost. Were you actually interested in the house?"

She nodded, and he chuckled. "Make me that shotgun, and it is yours. I'll pay for the materials. A fair trade."

She nodded more slowly. "I'll need those materials – I have a list, actually – and a good omni-foundry. I have one in my quarters, but that one is small scale and would take too long. I'll also need a restricted type six ammo-caster to make the wedge shaver for the ammo...and you'll have to find your own polonium. My supply is already pretty tight. It can use UF6 instead but I don't have enough of that to share either."

Ahern snorted. "You really are fucking crazy if you use uranium hexafluoride as goddamned ammo. I can scare up some polonium easy enough, at least enough for a few ammo blocks." He smiled. "Given that your crews and officers are good to go, all that remains is final shakedown and security certs. Your captains will be doing shakedown runs until Wednesday, and we'll be doing touch up repairs and final fittings until Friday. Officially you ship out at Friday, 1500 hours. Unofficially...we're done."

She gestured to the comms screen. "I saw you talking with Rear Admiral Branson..."

Ahern sighed. "You're in a unique and ugly situation, Shepard. A commander usually runs a frigate or a destroyer escort. A battle group is usually run by a captain, sometimes a rear admiral. While your rank as Major of Marines is on paper on par with that of a Rear Admiral, your _training _isn't. I've done my best to give you a good grounding on fleet command. And your destroyer and frigate captains will certainly work with you to improve that."

He met her gaze evenly. "But the fact remains that you are very much untested in being able to coordinate a space battle of multiple ships. The Normandy was very successful, but it was a severely over-weaponed, over-powered brute of a frigate, piloted by the scariest fucking pilot I've ever seen and going into situations where no one knew what it could do. You try any of that shit in a normal frigate and you'd be space dust."

Shepard nodded. "The Kazan is also pretty incredible, sir...but if I understand tactics correctly, I'm not to lead it into battle, but to hang back and support the other ships?"

Ahern nodded. "Exactly! Good. You aren't an idiot after all, just very slow." He smirked, then his mirth faded. "More seriously … I've argued you need more time and training on this aspect of things, but the fuckers want to use it as ammunition against you."

He jutted his jaw out. "Not on my fucking watch. Just don't make a fucking intergalactic clown out of me by getting your ass handed to you in your first heavy space battle."

She smirked. "I'll...try not to. What else is on the schedule?"

Ahern sighed. "I have to rest after this month, to be honest. Training your pack of fuckups was exhausting. For the rest of the week, you're on your own – you might want to run training for your people, or review more of the tactics with my trainers if you have the inclination and time. I'll meet up with you Thursday to discuss the house and for you to give me my shotgun."

He stood. "Other than that, Major-Commander, it is with no lack of honest pleasure that I can say you may not be perfectly trained, or demonstrate every skill others may want out of you, but I would be honored to share a trench with you and trust you to watch my back in any fight, Shepard." He extended his hand, and she shook it, the outright compliment pleasing her on a level she didn't expect.

"I...thank you, Admiral." She paused. "I tried the best I could – "

He held up a hand. "Shepard, you've done that your whole career. Like I said, I made assumptions. I know better. No one should be able to complain about you, with the shit you had to deal with. That doesn't mean you get a free pass for it. I won't coddle you and tell you that you haven't fucked up bad in the past, or give you a hug and tell you it will be alright."

He folded his arms, eyes hard. "I will tell you that life merely fucking is what it is. Some enjoy it, some tolerate it, some stumble the fuck through it without ever getting the point. And the point is to fucking _live your life,_ not waste it – not on patriotism, not on ideals, not on dumb shit and certainly not on beating yourself up over shit you can't change."

He exhaled. "I've lost more than most people ever had – but I don't get depressed or whiny or tear up like a shitfaced emo clown, _because I am motherfucking Tradius Ahern_, the baddest sonofabitch in this entire fucking galaxy." He unfolded his arms to jab a finger into her shoulder. "And _that _is what you need to be telling yourself when you get up every morning. When you stare into your mirror and brush your teeth."

He stepped back, adjusting his uniform. "People don't like it, tell 'em the airlock is open for everyone."

She gave a small smile. "Lots of people telling me that lately, sir – that I need to believe in myself."

Ahern rolled his eyes. "Then maybe you should, you know, fucking listen to what you're being told?" He drained his drink, and gave her a hard, tight smile. "I'm satisfied you learned what you needed to, if you actually remember it. You aren't perfect. You never will be, stop trying. Whatever the fuck happens next in your life had better be your call, not someone else jerking your strings."

He paused, glancing away, then back. "I want to tell you one more thing, Shepard, and it won't be an easy thing for you to hear. It isn't something I would have thrown onto your lap...but I don't let marines wander into the fucking wild blue yonder without giving them a heads up."

She frowned. "I'm listening, sir."

He gave a deep sigh, weary and full of disgust. "Preston Kyle was one of my closest friends. A brilliant and tough sonofabitch. For him to do what he did – blowing himself up – means there's something bad going on in the SA, something that he couldn't stomach, or with all his influence, change. I know some of what set him off, but not all of it."

She nodded slowly. "He gave me an OSD about some of it. It dovetailed with what I learned about Cerberus."

Ahern nodded. "Before he died, Kyle sent me a strange message and an OSD, too. A set of coordinates and security codes, old security codes. From the message, it sounds like he didn't know if he'd get to see you or not before what he'd been planning went off."

He exhaled. "The coordinates and the OSD are for you. I've given some thought to check it out myself, but I won't have the chance until my transfer comes, and there are always going to be a lot of eyes on me."

He looked at her, hard. "There's nasty shit going down, and has been going down for a while. Kyle did what he could to put it into the open enough that the people behind it backed off. That doesn't mean the shit stopped. You are already caught up in it. I'm not going to try and fuck with your head too much, but do not fucking trust your superiors."

She grimaced. "I already figured out that much. But the President seems on the up and up..."

Ahern snorted. "They don't tell him everything, and I have my doubts that he's any better than the rest of them. All this shit they're throwing at you may well be so that you can have the independence a Spectre needs...but I think it is also to make you feel gratitude towards the SA, given the shit you have learned."

She thought on this, nodding again. "It would explain a lot, sir. I honestly expected to get fucked over and out when I turned this shit up. And I expected lots of push-back on Liara...on adding her and Tali to my crew...lots of things. The nobility thing … "

Ahern narrowed his eyes. "There's a justification for all of it. Nobility because it gets rid of that Z2 bullshit and removes you from being unduly influenced by the Commissars. The double promotion so that you outrank most anyone who doesn't know what's really going on in the SA, and that you have the rank to justify you working for the President directly. Overlooking your girlfriend and your fraternization so your brain doesn't melt."

He folded his arms again. "But behind each of those is a darker reason, Shepard. Nobles handle their own shit, and no one can see what they're up to – and if they need to shut you up, no one would ever know why. The double promotion makes you very reliant on advice from your more experienced subordinates and opens you up to a world of political bullshit you aren't equipped to handle. The thing with Liara is that she makes a really handy way to keep you in line if you get out of hand."

Shepard's expression darkened, and Ahern nodded. She was silent for several seconds before biting her lip, then speaking. "There's more, isn't there?"

Ahern sighed and nodded. "Knowing it will just fuck your head up. Whatever was going to happen, I think, has been completely derailed. It isn't as important as remembering that while there are only a few bad apples in the SA...they're big fucking apples. You try to do anything about it, you will get yourself and your friends killed deader than dog shit."

She sighed. "So what do I do?"

Ahern narrowed his eyes. "Take the OSD and listen to Kyle's message. When you get a chance, check out what he says. Find people you trust who have the power to do something about the shit and let them know – do not run off and try to be a fucking hero. Most of all, keep it quiet."

She nodded at this. "And who do I trust with... shit like this?"

Ahern snorted. "You can trust me, given that I had the thing. As for anyone else...vouching for people in high places leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

His eyes darkened with old memories. "And I may not be the best judge of fucking character. I'd have said trust Rachel Florez not that long ago. I can't even be 100% sure my old friend Yonis Chu is truly trustworthy – Kyle didn't let anybody but me know about this OSD." He looked at her. "Whoever you decide to trust, make sure they can actually do something about it."

Shepard frowned. "I can trust David, and Liara."

Ahern raised an eyebrow. "I said people with the power to do something about it, Shepard. Your girlfriend is not going to have that anytime soon. I'm pretty sure that if you're in her brain, you know if she can be trusted or not. But I will say that no matter how much you love her, Shepard – she's still a liability, a weak spot any fool can see, and once you marry the girl, a gigantic fucking target. Bringing her in on this shit is just going to make her a bigger target."

He folded his arms."As far as Anderson goes... the kindest thing I can say is that the man is blinded by his emotions towards you and isn't seeing clearly about some things. I'd keep that in mind when it comes down to who you place your trust in. He has a lot of influence – some of his more distant relatives are nobles, and Kahlee Sanders is Jon Grissom's daughter."

He looked at her steadily. "I know he's close to you. But if you make him choose between you and the SA, you may not like the answer you get."

She snorted. "Isn't that the same for you, sir?"

He shook his head. "Unlike a goddamned Commissar, I like being able to look in the mirror in the morning. I disagree with a LOT of the shit the SA is into, and I'd have been Fleet Master or fucking High Admiral a decade ago if I had kept my mouth shut on it. The fact that I've been training people in the ass end of nowhere for years is my punishment. If it came down to the SA, or the PEOPLE of the SA?"

He fingered his uniform with a small smile. "You already know that answer, Shepard."

She nodded. "Yeah. I just...Anderson is the person who's done more for me than anyone else. He's the closest thing I have to a father. I trust his advice more than anyone. I told him already about what Kyle's OSD to me had on it, at least some of it."

Ahern narrowed his eyes. "I'm not telling you to abandon the man, and I'm not saying he's going to double cross you. I'm saying that his priorities aren't yours. There's … " He trailed off.

She frowned. "Sir?"

He shook his head, speaking slowly. "There's old history between me and Anderson. His unit was tapped for N7 at the same time as mine was. I've seen more than once where he lets his idealism trump his goddamned common sense. It burned him back then. It burned him with Saren. It could end up burning you, if you aren't careful."

He didn't voice his true suspicions – that Anderson had known about Cerberus' interference in Shepard's early life. He was either there that day to recruit her for Cerberus … or kill her before Cerberus could. Ahern suspected either way Shepard's actions in saving his life from random violence changed his mind, but that was supposition.

Instead, he just pulled an OSD from his pocket. "Whoever you trust is up to you, not me. These are the coordinates and the sec codes Kyle sent, along with a pretty goddamned cryptic message. Based on what is on here, he knew sooner or later you'd come here, and wanted me to get this to you when you were ready for it. There's something else on here that's code-locked to some questions about you I couldn't answer. Whoever you tell and trust with this knowledge should only be told AFTER you make backups."

He handed it to her, and she folded her fingers around it. "I didn't like the last one I got, sir. I'll probably like this one even less."

Ahern shrugged, and turned away, walking up to his desk. "We all do shit we don't like, Shepard. If you find out something from that and you need advice – call me."

She nodded, then turned to go. She paused at the doorway, half turning to face him. "Admiral Ahern. Thank you again for taking the time to train me. I … am very grateful you did, that you had faith in me. That you risked your own reputation on me." She paused, and spoke more softly. "That you helped me realize how to improve myself."

Ahern looked back at her, his expression almost sad. "I'd do the same for any marine, Shepard. If you want to thank me, stay alive. Remember the Rules. And knock some respect into that mouthy ass pilot of yours."

She laughed, and exited the office.


End file.
